Georgia Wagstaff, Meet Richard Parker

, , , | Related | August 15, 2017

(I am in the car with my three-and-a-half-year-old son on our way home from the toy shop. He picked out a stuffed tiger. It should be noted that he occasionally forgets what he named his toys.)

Me: “That’s a very cool tiger. What will you name him?”

Son: “Mummy, it’s a girl!”

Me: “Okay, she still needs a name.” *trying to think of something he can remember* “How about Fluffy?”

Son: “No.”

Me: “Stripes?”

Son: “No.”

Me: “What about Ginger?”

Son: “I don’t like those names!”

Me: “So what will you call her?”

Son: “Georgia Wagstaff!”

(I have no idea where he heard those names but two years later the tiger is still named Georgia Wagstaff and he still plays with her.)

This Is Already Better Than The Movies

, , , | Related | August 15, 2017

(Where I live, large residential transformers are sometimes hidden in fake houses set up by the hydro company. These houses usually have the windows blacked out or no windows at all, no mailbox, and sometimes no visible street address or driveway, but otherwise look like normal houses. I first time I notice one is when I’m seven years old and point it out to my mother.)

Me: “Mom, that house looks weird!”

Mom: “That’s not actually a house.”

Me: “What do you mean? It looks like one.”

Mom: “That’s a power building. There’s a transformer in there.”

(Not knowing that she was referring to electrical transformers and not giant robots, I walked over to the house the next day and tried to visit the Transformer. No one answered the door so I tried to open it myself but it was locked.)

Me: “Mom, he wasn’t there. I didn’t hear anything and the door’s locked.”

Mom: “Were you at [Friend]’s house?”

Me: “No, I wanted to meet the Transformer but he wasn’t home.”

(My mom went into a panic and told me what was actually in the house and that I shouldn’t try to go in there again.)

Engaging With The Sister-In-Law

, , , , , | Related | August 15, 2017

(We are having a girls only weekend away with my sisters-in-law and the oldest nieces, including one nephew’s fiancée. The beach house we are staying at is next to a boy’s party house. All of the nieces end up partying on the beach with the boys.)

Niece: *coming into the bedroom we are all sharing* “What are you doing in bed, [Fiancée]? You should be out partying with us. You might meet a nice boy!”

Fiancée: “Meet a nice boy? No, thanks, I’ll stay here.”

Niece: “Oh, are you sure? The boys are great; you could have so much fun.”

Fiancée: “I. Am. Engaged. To. Your. Brother.”

Niece: *shrugs* “Oh, well, are you sure?”


Niece: “Oh. Okay.”

The Little Voice Has Little Voices

, , , | Related | August 14, 2017

(A nephew’s wedding is the occasion for my large and noisy family to trot out several favorite stories. Several of them involve my youngest brother, an adrenalin junkie with poor decision-making skills. At the end of a long and complicated story about him, three dogs, and a skunk, one of my nieces is shaking her head in disbelief.)

Me: “It’s true. You know that little voice that we all have in the back of our brain; the one that tells you not to do dumb stuff like stick a fork in the wall socket?”

Niece: “Are you saying Uncle [Youngest Brother] doesn’t listen to his little voice?”

Me: “I’m saying his little voice was dropped on its head as a child.”

If It Comes Out Pangaea It Needs A Few Hundred Million More Years

, , , | Related | August 14, 2017

(My mother and sister are putting together a globe cake and are having… difficulties placing the continents.)

Sister: “So… uh… is Spain supposed to run into Egypt?”

Mom: “There was some continental shifting involved.”

Me: “I guess the plains in Spain missed the rains down in Africa.”

Sister: “No.”

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