At least SOMEBODY around here loves me!!!!!!
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Wisdom of Rufus #309
The day before school shut down for its spring fumagation week, I was at THE DOLLAR STORE (where, according to Rufus, you go when you need to get some more dollars), and I bought a crossword puzzle book on the spur of the moment, one of those easy ones at the checkout stand. I had just watched this movie, Wordplay, and was thinking I would be smart enough to try a crossword, especially if I could peek at the answers in the back of the book. After buying the puzzle book, I went to the school to eat some dirt-sprinkled chili on the windy playground at Rufus' Cowboy Cookout Day. He left early with me, after the feast, and later, while we were waiting for Boudreaux-the-Studious-One to get out of school, Rufus found the crossword book. He opened it, grabbed a pencil, asked me how it worked, and immediately started trying to solve a puzzle. I though this was crazy. What kindergartener can do a crossword puzzle for adults? So I let him be. His mouth was shut.
The next day, we were all in the car and he gets out his book. He's completed about 1/3 of the puzzle. The following issues forth from the back seat:
"I thought the three-letter-word for uncooked was 'raw,' but that doesn't fit."
Fatty, who always takes the bait: "How many spaces do you have?"
R: "Three, but the first letter has to be 'W.'"
F: "Well, that word with a W might be wrong. What's the clue for that word?"
R: "'A female parent', five letters across...but I am 100% positive I have that one filled in right. I know what we call you: 'WOMAN.'"
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Wisdom of Rufus, the Middle Child #309
This one has a rather complicated set up...
As Opry and Dr. Fill and all them other smart peoples on the TV have told me he would, Rufus has become THE MIDDLE CHILD, the one who isn't the oldest and isn't the baby and is somehow lost in the middle. Thank goodness Rufus has a very loud voice, or else I might lose him in the piles of laundry and dirty dishes.
Both the baby and the eldest have had a stomach virus. The baby's was not as bad, but Boudreaux had to stay home from school for two days. His virus had then moved from north to south. Thinking that the barforama was over (it had been two days since the last upheaval, after all), we decided that a little Mexican food might be just the ticket to sooth our week-weary spirits.
While it seemed like a good idea at the time, Boudreaux's stomach later decided that we were not as bright as we thought we were, so about 9:45 PM last night--at the conclusion of a long day and a very long week, just as I had gotten everyone in bed and was turning off the lights so I could go to sleep--the cheese enchilada festival ended up spread across the bathroom floor.
In true form, Boudreaux just froze in place, not bothering to pick up the plastic garbage can 10 inches from his foot and make his deposit there. No, instead he sat in place and just started shrieking like his toenails were being pulled out while broadcasting...stuff...in unnaturally large amounts...everywhere. It was sort of like the Exorcist Goes TexMex.
This event happened, in actual measurement, about four feet from the sleeping baby, separated only by a thin wall. So, of course, the shrieks, besides scaring the bejesus out of me, also sent the baby into hysterics.
Fifteen minutes, three dustpans full of enchilada stew, one bath, 212 "quit shouting"s, and five minutes of soothing the screaming infant later, Boudreaux was back in bed, the girlchild was in my arms almost under control, and I was mentally giving myself permission to ingest a double-serving of cheap white wine as a reward. Thinking in amazement how Bumpus had slept through this episode and being thankful that 3 out of 5 of us were all escaping this virus, I tiptoed out the boys' room, patting the baby and making some sort of "shh shh, it's okay" mumblings. As I did...
"See Mama?" issued forth from the darkness.
"See what?" I asked Rufus.
"That's what I mean when I say I never get in any attention."
As Opry and Dr. Fill and all them other smart peoples on the TV have told me he would, Rufus has become THE MIDDLE CHILD, the one who isn't the oldest and isn't the baby and is somehow lost in the middle. Thank goodness Rufus has a very loud voice, or else I might lose him in the piles of laundry and dirty dishes.
Both the baby and the eldest have had a stomach virus. The baby's was not as bad, but Boudreaux had to stay home from school for two days. His virus had then moved from north to south. Thinking that the barforama was over (it had been two days since the last upheaval, after all), we decided that a little Mexican food might be just the ticket to sooth our week-weary spirits.
While it seemed like a good idea at the time, Boudreaux's stomach later decided that we were not as bright as we thought we were, so about 9:45 PM last night--at the conclusion of a long day and a very long week, just as I had gotten everyone in bed and was turning off the lights so I could go to sleep--the cheese enchilada festival ended up spread across the bathroom floor.
In true form, Boudreaux just froze in place, not bothering to pick up the plastic garbage can 10 inches from his foot and make his deposit there. No, instead he sat in place and just started shrieking like his toenails were being pulled out while broadcasting...stuff...in unnaturally large amounts...everywhere. It was sort of like the Exorcist Goes TexMex.
This event happened, in actual measurement, about four feet from the sleeping baby, separated only by a thin wall. So, of course, the shrieks, besides scaring the bejesus out of me, also sent the baby into hysterics.
Fifteen minutes, three dustpans full of enchilada stew, one bath, 212 "quit shouting"s, and five minutes of soothing the screaming infant later, Boudreaux was back in bed, the girlchild was in my arms almost under control, and I was mentally giving myself permission to ingest a double-serving of cheap white wine as a reward. Thinking in amazement how Bumpus had slept through this episode and being thankful that 3 out of 5 of us were all escaping this virus, I tiptoed out the boys' room, patting the baby and making some sort of "shh shh, it's okay" mumblings. As I did...
"See Mama?" issued forth from the darkness.
"See what?" I asked Rufus.
"That's what I mean when I say I never get in any attention."
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