Tonight, Peeta was telling me a story about a conversation he had with his teacher.
Peeta: So, I told Mrs C about the apple cinnamon and she asked where I saw Jacob (her son).
Peeta: I asked her if she knew apple cinnamon. She said yes, and I asked if Jacob was there because I saw him when we went to see Mr Peabody and Sherman.
Me (trying to figure how Peeta’s favorite snack is related to the movies): I don’t get it.
Peeta (speaking very slowly and in short sentences so as not to further confuse his moronic mother): I asked Mrs C if she knows apple cinnamon. She said yes. I told her I saw Jacob there when I went to see Mr Peabody and Sherman. He was seeing something else. I think it was called The Dark of Violence (dramatic raised eyebrows).
Me: OH! APPLE CINEMA!!!
Noodle, in the back seat of the car, to no one in particular: I’m the queen of Ethiopia and Peeta is the king!!
Peeta, a little annoyed that Noodle is always claiming to be Ethiopian: Why aren’t you the queen of England? Daddy is English, you know.
Noodle, thrilled with this prospect: I am the queen of England! And the queen of Ethiopia! I AM THE QUEEN OF EVERYTHING!!
Yup, she’s definitely mine.
Noodle and I are driving in the car and she pipes up from the back seat: Mama, I have a secret.
Me: You do? What is it?
Noodle: I love you SO much!
Me: Oh, Noodle. That is such a nice secret. Thank you so much.
Noodle: Mama, I have another secret.
Me: Hit me.
Noodle: I love you to the farthest star and all the way back.
Me: Hooray! Thank you, baby!
Noodle: Mama, I have ANOTHER secret.
Me: No way! What is it?
Noodle: We need a new car.
First, Noodle starts shouting out, “Leaners!” at dinner for no good reason. The boys and I look at each other quizzically, and then ignore her. It becomes impossible to do as she gets louder. “Leaners! LEANERS! LEANERSSSS!”*
I whisper to Bucket, “Is she saying weiners?”
“No,” he says (somewhat foolishly, in my opinion). “She doesn’t even know what those are.”
Peeta immediately pounces and asks, “Noodle, what are weiners?”
“WILLIES!” she shrieks, before falling into convulsive (and deranged) laughter.
Two minutes later, she leans over to me. “Mama, I love you. I want to marry you!”
And then barks, “KISS ME!”
Next, she climbs into Bucket’s lap to finish her meal, and gets into the downward dog so that her ass is right in her father’s face. Then she yells, while shaking her tiny bum, “This is a lovely meal, Mama!”
That’s my girl–ever the little lady.
*It makes sense now that when we heard that Justin Bieber song about “Selener” in the car today, Noodle yelled, “She said Leaner!!” and cracked up. I just assumed she had gone mad. I still stand by that theory.
A beautiful Saturday starts when you hear your children creeping down the stairs at 7:15, but instead of crashing into your room yelling, “WAKE UP! COME DOWNSTAIRS! WE WANT TOAST!” they walk right by. A few minutes later, you hear them splashing around. When you go to check on them, they are washing dishes in a 53-degree kitchen. (Don’t get me started on why our kitchen is 53 degrees in the morning. Ask my cheepy-cheep husband.)
Later, when you’re all cleaning the house, you ask your son to go clean his room. He tells you he already did, and when you check, you find that the kids cleaned his room before doing the dishes.
And at the end of the day, when you thank your wonderful, wonderful son for doing all that hard work, he says, “What about Noodle? She helped too!”
Say what you want; I have the best kids in the world. Most of the time.
This has been kind of a shitty day. Wait, maybe not quite shitty. Yucky, maybe. Peeta busted into our room in the night, then Noodle woke up early and came in the bed with me and Peeta (Bucket had decamped to the guest room because he refuses to sleep with kids in the bed), it was rainy, Noodle wouldn’t stop pooping, I got an email from Peeta’s teacher wanting to discuss his reading issues, and it was dark and rainy.
I have found five things to make this day better:
1. Noodle in her crib at naptime yelling down to me, “I love you [to the] farthest star!” over and over and over again.
2. Peeta got 100% on his spelling test. That’s right, my kid can spell together. Can you spell genius?
3. Rain turned into 75 degree sunshine. We are about to go out for ice cream in the sun, because it might be our last chance. Mine will have chocolate.
4. I’m going to the liquor store for a big bottle o’New Zealand sauvignon blanc on the way home from the ice cream store.
5. Bucket gets home in two and a half hours and it’s his turn to cook dinner. Sweet action.
Noodle, upon hearing that we are going to the inn where Mama and Abbat got married:
Daddy got Mama married?
My daughter is walking around the house wearing nothing but a diaper and a dog collar, asking “I look good? I look good?”
Pray that she stops doing this before she’s in high school.
Noodle, as I am changing her profoundly stinky and disgusting diaper: “I wish Daddy change it.”
You and me both, sister. You and me both.
So Peeta just came home with a note from some of those ass-kissing, overachieving parental types, who are making a memory book for the teachers. He is supposed to complete the sentence “I like Mrs. E because…” and draw a picture.
I tried to get him to do it. He couldn’t think of a single thing he likes about her. I was practically begging him to come up with anything (the assistant teacher’s sentence was I like Mrs W because she lets me get drinks a lot). He just looked at me blankly. Eventually, I said, Is she at least good at reading? Yeah, she’s good at reading. So he likes Mrs E because she’s a good reader. I did consider adding “don’t” to the sentence and making a good long list, and drawing a picture of a rigid middle finger, but I restrained myself.
Then he had to draw the picture. He looked at me and said, I’m going to make her super old. So he started drawing a face with weird squiggles on it. These are wrinkles! he cried. Then he drew some buck teeth, some glasses and some grey hair (which came out black because he was using a black pen).
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed and laughed. She probably won’t get that he drew a picture of a wizened old hag and will just think he has an artistic glitch, but I thought it was genius. And, in case you were wondering, I am not contributing to the class collection to buy her flowers to celebrate her retirement, nor am I buying her an end-of-year gift, though I have considered packing up a bunch of Noodle’s poopy diapers in a box with a big red bow. In fact, I think I’ll go do that now.