Rub-a-dub-dub, Singing in the Tub

I don’t think anybody’s ever written a song called, “There’s urine on the couch, and the remote control is in the shower. I would write it myself, but I’ve never been very good at writing love ballads.” ~ Jarod Kintz

I composed a song today.  All by myself. 

It should be noted that this was not my first venture into musical composition.  Many years ago I co-wrote a song with my friend RubyAnn.  And while some might say it was the delirious stylings of two women who had spent too much time in a church van, it did receive critical acclaim (from our friend Tammy who I think had somewhat low standards and Rubyann's sister Kim) and was performed during the royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton (by me in my living room when the dignitaries from Tonga appeared on the TV). 

On a side note, when Alex was a baby I used to sing him to sleep with Goodnight My Someone from The Music Man.  I do it almost as well as Shirley Jones.  He still likes this song and will occasionally ask me to sing it.  It's never worked for Mark.  He's a bit of a metalhead and prefers We're Not Going to Take It by Twisted Sister.  I'm not sure what this says about my children.  Or about me either. 

The song I wrote today isn't quite as impressive as the ones my friend Kelly wrote while potty training her son but it accomplished what I needed it to.  And now, for your enjoyment, I offer these words to live by lyrics.  Sing to whatever tune you choose:

 

 

Sit down on your bottom when you're in the bathtub,

Sit down on your bottom when you're in the bathtub,

Sit down on your bottom when you're in the bathtub.

 

Don't lick your brother when you're in the bathtub,

Don't lick your brother when you're in the bathtub,

Don't lick your brother when you're in the bathtub.

 

No splashing Mommy when you're in the bathtub,

No splashing Mommy when you're in the bathtub,

No splashing Mommy when you're in the bathtub.

 

Don't eat the bubbles when you're in the bathtub,

Don't eat the bubbles when you're in the bathtub,

Don't eat the bubbles when you're in the bathtub.

 

It probably won't win a Grammy but I'm proud.

 

 



(Not my children.)

Self-Editing

“I don't have to tell you it goes without saying there are some things better left unsaid. I think that speaks for itself. The less said about it the better.” ~George Carlin, Brain Droppings

A recent conversation with Alex - including the parts that only took place in my mind:

Alex: The cat at Robin’s is Kidder and the cat at Gram’s is Frank.

Me: (Silently) Actually Frank died not that long ago but I’d rather not go in that.
        (Aloud) That’s right.

Alex: Robin’s going to give me a cat.

Me: (Silently) She better not.
       (Aloud) Really?

Alex: Yes, I will call him Fire.

Me: (Silently) Where do you come up with this stuff?
       (Aloud) Fire?

Alex: Yes, he’s a really hot cat.

          Me: (Silently) BWAHAHAHAHAHA
                  (Aloud) Ohh.

Alex: He will be orange.

Me: (Silently) That actually makes sense.
        (Aloud) Is orange your favorite color?

Alex: Yes.

Me: I thought your favorite color was red.

Alex: No, orange.

Me: (Silently) Seriously? You told me it was red not even 10 minutes ago.
        (Aloud) Okay.

 

Several minutes later:

Jeff: (Reading this post aloud) Actually Frank died not that long ago...

Alex: Frank died?

Jeff: Yes, he's in kitty heaven.

Cloudy, with a chance of snout dogs...

I’m interested in meteorology, but I’m more interested in gross misappropriations of the authoritative language of science. It feels rife with clarity, and yet you don’t understand what it means. And I think that’s beautiful.   ~Rivka Galchen

Earlier this week, in an attempt to remember the word "prognosticator", I entered the word "meteorologist" on the Thesaurus.com website.  My search netted an interesting list, including, not only, prognosticator but also prophesier, forecaster, tea-leaf reader, soothsayer and haruspex.

Which led me to ask, as I'm sure you are, "What is a 'haruspex'?"  A quick search on Dictionary.com brought me this interesting insight:

 /həˈrʌspəˌsiz/ Show Spelled

haruspex: (in ancient Rome) one of a class of minor priests who practiced divination, especially from the entrails of animals killed in sacrifice

 

 

Which led to the inevitable question, "Wouldn't the weather report be so much more interesting if they replaced Doppler Radar with Examination of the Entrails?"

Which led to this conversation:

  Me: Do you want to go to the Farmers Market with me and the kids tomorrow?
  Nancy: I wish I had a better idea of what the weather was going to be like.
  Me: I could go home and consult the entrails.
  Nancy: Do you have entrails?
  Me: I think there's a package of hot dogs in the freezer.

Which led to this:

The GCT has friends!

“The rule is: don’t use commas like a stupid person. I mean it.”   ~Lynne Truss, Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation

These made me laugh:

I stole the 1st one from a friend on Facebook.  The second came from this website.

I gotta go feed these kids.  Have a great day!

Nonconventional Christmas list

Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love Divine;

Love was born at Christmas;

Star and angels gave the sign.

~Christina Rossetti

This year is the first one that Alex has really "gotten" Christmas.  He has been so excited - to get our tree, to put up the Christmas lights, to play with the manger scene, etc, etc.  Today the first presents appeared under the tree and it has been TORTURE for him.  I'm totally convinced that you don't really appreciate Christmas until you have kids.  But this post isn't about all that...

I asked Alex what he wanted for Christmas.  He told me that he wanted "a toy".  I'm pretty sure this will be the last year presents for him are so easy.  Next year I'm sure he will have a long, very specific list.  And if he's anything like his mother, it will be color-coded and sortable by several columns and available in a variety of media.  And if he's anything like his father, it will include a price-comparison analysis of several major retailers and detailed specifications regarding why it has to be THIS EXACT MODEL.

On a side note, Alex did volunteer that Mark wants a little donkey for Christmas.  (I'm not sure where he comes up with this stuff except that we've been reading the Christmas story and singing this song which I link to mainly because the camel cracks me up.)  Conveniently, a while back, I saw a Craigslist ad for a "Real Nice Donkey" that I could purchase for $500 or trade for something worth $500.  I'm sure the donkey will fit in nicely in the backyard with the dog and stegosaurus.

Because my son was not specific about what he wants for Christmas, I have created a Christmas list for him.  He didn't mention any of these items but, because of the amount of time he spends playing with these types of things, I know he would be totally delighted to receive any of them.

1. Box - any size
2. Rock - again any size
3. Stick - preferably large
4. Cooking tongs
5. Laundry basket - preferably large enough to get in
6. Vegetable steamer basket
7. Rolling pin
8. Tupperware or Gladware - any sizes, with or without lids

I provide this list as a joke but it occurs to me that there are those (Nancy, Michael, I'm looking at you) who would actually give these things to my son.  And, while he'll be delighted, I'm going to think it's a little strange.

Have a terrific Christmas!

Stegosaurus-related conversations with Alex

“Man, I so sick of dinosaurs. They wasn't extinct, I'd go out an' kill 'em myself.”   ~Lawrence Block
 

Alex: Quick, quick, we gotta hide.  A stegosaurus is coming!
Me: Really?  Where is it?
Alex: Oh, that's not a stegosaurus, that's Doggie.
Me: What a relief!

Alex: Mommy, there's a stegosaurus under my bed!!
Me: I can say with reasonable certainty, there's not.  Go to sleep.

Alex: Quick, quick, we gotta hide.  A stegosaurus is coming!
Me: If there is, in fact, a stegosaurus roaming along Mill Plain Boulevard tonight, I'm taking it's picture.
Jeff:  If there's a stegosaurus around here, we're taking it home.  And we're not turning it in or anything like that.  We're going to keep it and make a million dollars.
Me: Who would you turn a stegosaurus in to?  The Humane Society?  Animal control?
Jeff: It doesn't matter.  We're not turning it in.
Me: We have enough trouble picking up dog poop.  You really think a stegosaurus is a good idea?
Jeff: That's a good point.

Me: Quick, quick, get out of the tub.  A stegosaurus is coming!
Alex: No, Mommy, there's not.

Ambiguous Acronyms

“brb, ttyl ok? wow, i saved a 'ton' of time with those acronyms.”   ~Stephen Colbert

I picked up this flyer at play school recently:

Apparently FISH is an acronym (though no one seems to know what it stands for) for a charitable organization that collects food.  I'm glad I checked because this is what I was going to donate:

I picked this up at Kahneeta last weekend:

There were two of these originally.  I used one, liked it and brought the other one home.  But then I began to wonder: "Is it LA Fresh, the letters L and A like Los Angeles or La Fresh like La Pine or La Center?"  It's not a big deal but if I'm going to ask if Target carries this brand of makeup remover, I don't want to sound like an idiot.

And, while I'm on the subject, I don't begin to understand why those towns are called "La Pine" and "La Center".  How does it make sense to combine the Spanish feminine word for "the" with "pine" and "center"?  I would really like to know what the people who named these towns were thinking.

And again, while I'm on the subject, where do you stand on the toiletries provided by hotels?  I am usually of the "use some while I'm there but leave it all behind when I leave" school of thinking (the obvious exception being the recent makeup remover wipes).  Jeff, on the other hand, is of the "use the bare minimum so we can pack it all up and drag it back home with us" school.  It's not a point of friction in our marriage or anything, I just think he's crazy.

Finally, here is a recent Facebook conversation that took place between some of my friends and I that seemed to fit in nicely with the theme of this post.  "TCC" for those of you not aware stands for "The Country Church."

Major shout-out to my Mom: you're the best!