October 13

There was a picnic first thing this morning with Daddy, I guess. I somehow missed it. It involved juice, about two cups of sugar, a glass of water, and using a giant bulk package of paper towels for a table. (Mama was too busy stomping around and growling at various messes to be invited or to even notice that there was a picnic going on.)

Cleaning.

Letter Factory. While wearing duck feet.

Zoo Tycoon -biome building, today.

pbs on the tellie.

Lego Star Wars.

N_____ (post baths) savages.

Oof -toilet trouble.
New seal (beeswax). New screws and bolts from Home Depot.
a few choice curse words.
a bit of grunting.
No more leaky-leaky?

Lotsa wavin' guns around, rootin' tootin' shootin', blazin' glory, powpowpow....
hmmph. Didn't I tell him that toy (that I bought for him) belongs in the dungeon basement -- or somewhere I can't hear it?
Now he's talkin' about choppin' Battle Droids heads off.
[sigh]
In come the Light Sabers.
Oh, Good. Now Sweet Little Tot has the gun, is pointing it with glee, and demanding, "Freeze!"
Clicky clicky.
Guns. It just doesn't matter, Friends. Doesn't matter how many peace rallies you devotedly attended before you had children. Doesn't matter if you'd move to another country if the draft were reinstated. Doesn't matter that you have "Make Love Not Bombs" tattoed directly on your heart. Not to them. Complete disregard. The little blood-thirsty pirate beasties.

Where's my glass of beer?
Take-out for dinner, anyone?


*added later: Directly after finishing this post, I went into the den, and discovered Little Tot sitting two feet away from the small tellie her eyes and spirit glued to Little House On The Prairie.
Maybe I'll keep her, after all.