Ape #1 saw the mouse in the garage today. After much screaming, the vegetarian, animal-lover that she is advised me to get a mouse trap.
I don't think I can kill Cinderella's friend.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Public humiliation
Ape #1: "Mom, while we are at the mall today, can you pretend to be my cool older sister instead of my mom?"
Me: "But everyone who knows you will know that I'm your mom and not your sister."
Ape #1: "I know. It's all the people that I don't know. I'll be to embarrassed to be seen at the mall with my MOM."
Me: "But how will they know that I'm your sister? Should I wear a nametag?"
Ape #1: "Hmm. I wonder why I might be embarrassed to be with my mom."
Note: I blew our cover in the first store when I stated that my daughter needed a dressing room. So uncool.
Me: "But everyone who knows you will know that I'm your mom and not your sister."
Ape #1: "I know. It's all the people that I don't know. I'll be to embarrassed to be seen at the mall with my MOM."
Me: "But how will they know that I'm your sister? Should I wear a nametag?"
Ape #1: "Hmm. I wonder why I might be embarrassed to be with my mom."
Note: I blew our cover in the first store when I stated that my daughter needed a dressing room. So uncool.
Shopping list
While out shopping today, each ape was given a list of three items to remember. When asked to recall his, Ape #2 provided the following list:
"Dishpan, dust soap, and chewies."
Close.
"Dishpan, dust soap, and chewies."
Close.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Of mice and men
I saw a mouse the size of a peanut today in my garage. I threw a silent fit, because, little-known fact, apes cower in the presence of mice. I, in particular, am terrified of the little buggers.
A story to illuminate my point...
Ape #1 has a cat. This cat is quite amusing and often serves as our sentry. Every night, Momo jumps to the plant shelves, ambles to the front door and stands guard for about five minutes. He just stands there, looking at the door. We call it "securing the perimeter."
On a recent evening, I looked out the french doors of my office to see Momo guarding something small and furry. He was real eager to keep it away from us. I got a little closer, then realized I was looking at a dead mouse the size of a key. Like all good mothers, I locked myself in the office and called for my daughter to come retrieve the deceased mouse. She came to investigate, realized that "mouse" meant "mouse" and she proceeded to lock herself in my bedroom and jump on the bed. Just in case the dead mouse came to get her. Silly, I thought, as I sought refuge in my office. Momo wisened up and took his prize to a more secure location: the hallway. By now, Ape #2 decided there was enough fuss that he needed to get involved. Rather than rescue us from the carcass, he decided to scream incessantly.
The three of us gathered to concoct a plan to get the dead mini-mouse out of our house. Plan A: I call the father of Apes for assistance. Yes, he lives across town. But, hey, this was a crisis. No answer. I left a pitiful message. Plan B: Ape #1 calls the father of Apes. Again, no answer. Plan C: Ape #1 calls her friend who has a snake. Snakes eat mice. Therefore, she must be okay with touching dead mice, right? So, at 9:45 on a Saturday night we call up a 12 year-old girl to rescue us. I decide that plan is foolish, and I'm a grown human trained to save lives. I can get rid of a mouse corpse. I touch dead people all the time...well, frequently enough.
I grab a paper cup. I put on shoes and gloves. And, after fits of feet-stomping and squealing, I scooped that damn dead mouse up and ran him to the garage. All the while, Ape #1 is giving a blow-by-blow description of the events to her friend on the phone.
That's why I'm the cool mom.
Needless to say, I was less than thrilled to see a live, mini-mouse scurrying across my garage today.
A story to illuminate my point...
Ape #1 has a cat. This cat is quite amusing and often serves as our sentry. Every night, Momo jumps to the plant shelves, ambles to the front door and stands guard for about five minutes. He just stands there, looking at the door. We call it "securing the perimeter."
On a recent evening, I looked out the french doors of my office to see Momo guarding something small and furry. He was real eager to keep it away from us. I got a little closer, then realized I was looking at a dead mouse the size of a key. Like all good mothers, I locked myself in the office and called for my daughter to come retrieve the deceased mouse. She came to investigate, realized that "mouse" meant "mouse" and she proceeded to lock herself in my bedroom and jump on the bed. Just in case the dead mouse came to get her. Silly, I thought, as I sought refuge in my office. Momo wisened up and took his prize to a more secure location: the hallway. By now, Ape #2 decided there was enough fuss that he needed to get involved. Rather than rescue us from the carcass, he decided to scream incessantly.
The three of us gathered to concoct a plan to get the dead mini-mouse out of our house. Plan A: I call the father of Apes for assistance. Yes, he lives across town. But, hey, this was a crisis. No answer. I left a pitiful message. Plan B: Ape #1 calls the father of Apes. Again, no answer. Plan C: Ape #1 calls her friend who has a snake. Snakes eat mice. Therefore, she must be okay with touching dead mice, right? So, at 9:45 on a Saturday night we call up a 12 year-old girl to rescue us. I decide that plan is foolish, and I'm a grown human trained to save lives. I can get rid of a mouse corpse. I touch dead people all the time...well, frequently enough.
I grab a paper cup. I put on shoes and gloves. And, after fits of feet-stomping and squealing, I scooped that damn dead mouse up and ran him to the garage. All the while, Ape #1 is giving a blow-by-blow description of the events to her friend on the phone.
That's why I'm the cool mom.
Needless to say, I was less than thrilled to see a live, mini-mouse scurrying across my garage today.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Plot
Ape #2: (whispering) Mom, I've devised a plan to capture Santa.
Me: Really? Tell me.
Ape #2: (still whispering, getting closer to my ear with each word) Well, I'm going to buy a series of spy cameras, install them around the house. Then, I'm going to place a net under the tree, and when Santa gets close, the net (giggles) will shoot out and capture him.
Me: Sounds like a good plan. Except that Santa has magic and will know what you are up to.
Ape #2: (again, whispering) I think it will work.
Me: Why are you whispering?
Ape #2: (looks to the left, then right, then back to the left, moves closer, real stealth-like) Because Santa will hear me.
Me: Really? Tell me.
Ape #2: (still whispering, getting closer to my ear with each word) Well, I'm going to buy a series of spy cameras, install them around the house. Then, I'm going to place a net under the tree, and when Santa gets close, the net (giggles) will shoot out and capture him.
Me: Sounds like a good plan. Except that Santa has magic and will know what you are up to.
Ape #2: (again, whispering) I think it will work.
Me: Why are you whispering?
Ape #2: (looks to the left, then right, then back to the left, moves closer, real stealth-like) Because Santa will hear me.
R-Rated
Ape #2: Mom, does Stella (our lab) have a balls?
Me: "A balls?" What does that mean?
Ape #2: Mom, you know.
Me: Oh! No, Stella is a girl.
Ape #2: What about Buddy (our golden retriever)?
Me: Well, he did. But we got them cut off.
Ape #2: Are you gonna cut mine off?
Me: "A balls?" What does that mean?
Ape #2: Mom, you know.
Me: Oh! No, Stella is a girl.
Ape #2: What about Buddy (our golden retriever)?
Me: Well, he did. But we got them cut off.
Ape #2: Are you gonna cut mine off?
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Safety-conscious
(a glass falls to the floor from the table)
Ape #2: It didn't break. Good thing, cuz I don't have insurance.
Ape #2: It didn't break. Good thing, cuz I don't have insurance.
Apes = Razorbacks
Friends from Arkansas came a-visitin' and brought Razorback snouts for the apes.
Proof that apes and razorbacks are one and the same.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
A fond memory
Ape #1 was about four when the following conversation occurred.
Me: Oh my! You have bare feet!
Ape #1: Nuh uh. I have people feet!
Me: Oh my! You have bare feet!
Ape #1: Nuh uh. I have people feet!
Chores
Me: We need to clean your room because (out-of-town guests) will be here today.
(After several minutes of cleaning)
Ape #2: I guess it's time to clean under my bed.
(Approximately three minutes of muffled grunting ensues. He backwards army-crawls out from under his bed)
Ape#2: Well. I sure did hate that.
(After several minutes of cleaning)
Ape #2: I guess it's time to clean under my bed.
(Approximately three minutes of muffled grunting ensues. He backwards army-crawls out from under his bed)
Ape#2: Well. I sure did hate that.
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