Tuesday, June 14, 2011

A Little Catching Up

It appears I am a serial blog starter.  Not to be confused with a blogger, because I don't seem to be able to keep them going, but I certainly am good at starting them.  You know what's funny about that?  I keep stopping because I don't like the names I give my blogs.  Not because I don't have anything to say.  Trust me, I have plenty, as you will soon see.  But purely because of the name.  So not only am I a serial blog starter, but also very shallow.  Who knew?

But as I really like this name (for a whole myriad of reasons that I will share with you another time), I am feeling to need to transfer some posts from another blog to this one.  Because while I don't like the blog names, I LOVE several of my posts.  And here is one of them:


Whatever You Do, Don't Call The Cops!!

When you're 4, everything is new.  Everything is "why?", and every answer, is followed by "Oh.  Why?"

And let's not forget that kids are sponges.

So it shouldn't surprise me that when I muttered unspeakable things at the guy in the car in front of me today, the conversation went something like this:

Noodle:  "Why did you say that, Mama?"

Me: " Because the jackass guy in front of me wanted to turn and decided at the last minute not to.  Twice."

Noodle:  "Why?"

Me:  "Why didn't he turn?  Because he noticed a cop coming the other way, and he didn't want to get in trouble for turning where he shouldn't."

Noodle:  "What's a cop?"

Me:  "A policeman.  Or Woman.  Police Person."

Noodle:  "Why?"

Me:  "Because boys AND girls can be members of the police force."

Noodle:  "The what?"

Me:  "The police force.  The people you call when someone is doing something bad."

Noodle:  "Oh.  Why?"

Me:  "Because the cops can come and take care of it."

Noodle:  "Why?"

Me:  "Who wants McDonalds?! (When all else fails, change the subject, I always say!)"

Later that day, while cleaning the kitchen, Noodle was in the backyard, flinging around a cattail that she had found on our walk the day before.  Soon, flinging around became dipping it in the dog's water dish and dragging it all over the sliding glass door, a la masterpiece painting.  I hustled over to tell her to quit jacking up my freshly cleaned window with nasty dog slobber water (I promise I used much nicer words than that... mostly.).  And roughly three seconds later, she was back at it.

This time when I came to tell her to stop, I didn't even say anything.  I just rapped on the glass with a knuckle, and gave her a raised eyebrow (yes, just one) and a stern look.  And with that, she dropped her sopping cattail, put her hands up in the air, and loudly stated:

"Whatever you do, DON'T call the cops!!"

Did I mention that she's four?

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