Something else I thought I wouldn't say...

I have all daughters.  For that simple reason I thought there were things I would never have to say.  By contrast if I had all boys, the list of things I would never say would be very short indeed.  Growing up the oldest of four kids, including three boys, there were an infinite number of things I heard my parents say that were ridiculous.  In hindsight those statements were totally necessary due to the things we did.  Here is a short funny that I use as a further illustration of those things that we say and in hindsight are rather, well, interesting.

The other evening Cooper and Riley were playing on the living room floor.  Cooper was laying on the floor and Riley was climbing around her, over her, and on her.  It looked like a one-sided wrestling match.  Hurricane Riley was slowly but surely wearing down Super Cooper and "SC" was putting up no fight at all.

Then, in an attempt to apparently put an end to the match, Riley pulled a move on her that Cooper and I didn't expect.  Riley used her pointer finger and shoved it into Cooper's nose.  After the few seconds it took me to recover from watching my baby daughter lay a vicious nostril plugger on Cooper, I found myself saying, "Don't pick your sister's nose."

There I was...astounded by what I saw, and further shocked by what I said.  Having all girls I never expected to have to tell one of them not to PICK HER SISTER'S NOSE.  How ridiculous.

But, so goes our life.  The girls at times act like boys.  They burp, fart, and pick noses.  Wish us luck.

So...you don't want turkey?

Every morning  for nearly the last year our days start the same.  Before sunrise one of our children wakes up and decides no one should be forced to sleep until the sun comes up.  So Riley figures since she is up we need to be up, too.   Who needs an alarm when Riley makes sure we never sleep in? 

Sometimes Riley will want to lay back down for several minutes and cuddle with whichever parent did not get her from the crib.  Other times, she becomes vocal that she is starving and in need of sustenance in a hurry since she hasn't eaten in about ten hours and apparently withering away into nothingness.  Riley does not simply say "eat."  Instead, Riley unleashes a loud "MEAT" in the hope that I will spring from my comfortable sleeping spot to retrieve food due not only to her starvation,  but also due to the fact she thinks the household revolves around her.  Actually, I guess it sort of does.

At first I thought that she just could not say "eat."  No, she can say it.  I realized that she is such a genius, she is shortening several words and saving herself a fraction of a millisecond by combining "Me eat."  Wow, how cool.

As I say, the child knows when she is hungry and is not shy about letting us know.  It is obvious when she starts to throw a fit by stomping on the floor, jumping up and down in a circle, and flailing and throwing her arms in the air while yelling, "MEAT, MEAT, MEAT, MEAT..."  The first time she did that I strolled to the refrigerator and rolled up a slice of turkey.  How silly of me.  Of course that did not work and only made matters worse.  

Anyway, the points I make before I go to bed are these:  Riley hates sleep and feels we should too.  And, when Riley is yelling "MEAT," she does want food but is not asking for a burger.

 

Your purse has what?

Ask a man what he is afraid of and, if he is like me, he will reply that what is most fearsome, intimidating, and outright terrorizing is the contents of a woman's purse.  I don't dare go into my wife's purse...for any reason.  Then there is the contents of Cooper's purse.  Let me explain.

Cooper is very proud of her brown leather purse.  An example?  Every time Cooper takes a sack of garbage to the dumpster she slings her fashion accessory over her shoulder and struts out the door.  If you ask her she is dressed and accessorized, and ready to go on a date as opposed to taking the stinky trash to the can.

Last night I got a look at what was so important to take outside with her every time she walks out of the house.  The contents were less intimidating, and more hilarious.  To Cooper, I love you.  But I must share.

Inside the purse were the apparent necessities.  First, there was a "Jumbo Word Search" book.  Cooper is my step-daughter but she is as much like me as all of my girls.  This book is proof.  She must keep the book just in case she gets bored while standing next to the dumpster after throwing away the garbage.

Also in the purse is a pen that she stole from Ashley.  Cooper sees herself as a rock star.  At first one would assume that the pen is for the book.  Not so my friends.  I am certain the pen is to be used to sign autographs for any one of her fans who may recognize her as a 7 year old Taylor Swift.  Or maybe someone might recognize her from her PSA I posted last fall about Halloween and monster safety.

I found a strawberry banana fruit bar in there, too.  Apparently the walk from the front door to the dumpster is so long that she requires a snack for the trip.  I would have picked something different, but hey, at least she has something for emergencies.

There were two ticket stubs in there from some event she went to at the Science Spectrum, I think.  Why keep those?  I have no idea.

Lastly, and the most humorous thing, there was a pink hair extension.  Yes, I said hair extension.  Being a man I have no clue why she would need that except that she wanted to loo her best while, yes, taking out the garbage.  I guess this is because you never know when the next model scout will turn the corner here in Levelland looking for a fashionable 7 year old to model a new line of Gymboree clothing.

I guess I learned one thing.  Even at a young age, a woman must keep stuff in her purse to keep her ready for about anything.  Cooper my dear, you are well on your way.

 

Evidence of the crime

What we have here friends is the scene of the offense.  The place is the kitchen.  The what is cereal.  The evidence is obvious.  If you don't see it, look closer near the bag. 

Someone viciously and maliciously desecrated our kitchen floor by knowingly and intentionally entering a bag of cereal without consent and making said mess by dumping the remnant onto the floor.  Or, another way to say it is that one of my children threw our knock-off Cheerios onto the floor while sneaking food.

First of all, I know I didn't do it.  Secondly, neither did Major.  Hey, I got to make sure the only two males in this house stick together.  Besides, his alibi was easy.  He was outside eating.

When I walked into the kitchen the first thing I see at the scene is the bag.  Fact:  Riley Grace has been carrying that bag around for four days smashing handfuls of cereal in the mornings.  So, immediately I have my suspect.

As I look closely I see another obvious clue...the "patch."  To the non-parentals, that is baby slang for the pacifier.  So being a trained investigator I deduce Riley has decided dinner was not satisfying enough for her and she sneaked into the kitchen and hurriedly got into the cereal to supplement her dinner while leaving a mess, and evidence of her offense, in her wake.

So I immediately confront my suspect about my scene.  Riley and I are standing in the kitchen and I ask her what happened.  She stares at the mess.  I had my hands on my hips and simply stared at everything.  I ask her what the mess was.  Riley looked up at me and simply pointed at the cereal while shrugging her shoulders.  All I could do was stand there as dumbfounded as she appeared to be.  I took her behavior as a non-verbal admission of her offense.  Her punishment you ask?  None.  I could see she was genuinely sorry for her behavior.  Yes, I am a sucker.  I laughed at her and sent her toddling back into the living room while I cleaned up her mess.

Even though she got off without punishment, there are lessons to be learned here.  First, daddy is an investigator.  I catch crooks for a living.  So that means I will find out what happened eventually.  Secondly, let me assist you in lessening the chance of getting caught.  Never, I mean never, leave your patch behind.  It is a dead giveaway that you were present when whatever happened, happened.