Mustard All Your Strength To Not Be Mad

, , , , , , , , | Related | November 15, 2017

(My eighteen-month-old son has found out about how doors open. He loves to slam the garage door, and he likes to hold the refrigerator door open. He glares at me whenever I close it, usually a few seconds later, as I like to follow him when he’s headed to the kitchen. One day, I ask his sister to keep her eye on him while I run to the bathroom, but I don’t say anything about following him around to prevent mischief. When I finish in the bathroom, I go into the kitchen to grab something super quick, because I assume the kids are in their playroom, but I find my son in the kitchen with the fridge open. He’s sitting in the middle of what looks like a tiny yellow island, grinning from ear to ear, squeezing mustard out of its container. He looks at me and starts drinking the mustard.)

Me: “[Son]! Mustard is not a drink!”

Son: *stops squeezing the mustard container, and looks at me* “But it’s good, Mama!”

Me: “You may like it, but I don’t think the floor likes it very much.”

(My daughter hears the commotion, and runs out of the playroom.)

Daughter: “Uh… What? Oh, Mommy, he was playing and then I didn’t see him. I thought he was in the tent playing sleepy night-night time.”

Me: “That… That’s not a game. Please help me clean this. And remind me to text Daddy to tell him we need a fridge lock.”

(After cleaning the mess thoroughly, and bathing my son, I sent a text to my husband asking him to pick up a fridge lock on his way home, and I installed it that night. Seven years later, we still tease our son that mustard is not a drink.)


Dad Makes Interfering With Art An Art

, , , , , | Related | November 14, 2017

(I’m working on an art project for my friend’s birthday. I have spent two days sketching out everything, and I’m ready to start inking it. It should be mentioned that I have liked art for a long time and have done my own research on how to make a presentable piece. Because I have spent so long sketching my poster, I am scared to start inking the poster, in fear of messing up all my hard work. My dad thinks he has better ideas, and suggests a few as he is walking by:)

Dad: “Just colour it in as-is! Then just add black paint and make it artistic or something.”

Dad: “Just scan it! Then colour it in on your laptop and print it out!”

(We only have an A4 printer and scanner, and we have very little coloured ink left.)

Dad: *as I’m finding a new fine-liner because the one I’m using is running out* “Why are you wasting your time? Just use this pen!” *holds out a dollar store pen that isn’t even black*

(Once I finish inking and start to rub out the lines and colour things in:)

Dad: “Why are you wasting the eraser? It’s fine; STOP RUBBING OUT THE LINES!”

Dad: “Why don’t you just give it to her in black and white?”

Dad: *as I’m doing characters from my friend’s favourite animes on the poster, the eye colour and outfits can’t be changed or they would be unrecognizable* “Eww, why are the eyes blue? Why can’t you make them brown?”

Dad: *snatches pencil and starts stabbing some scrap paper, effectively destroying the pencil* “You need to colour it in like this! Why are you making all of this so light?!”

Dad: *watching me draw a Pokémon* “Why is that so ugly!? Why is there a flower growing out its back?!”

(Thankfully, I was able to finish the poster without my dad destroying the poster.)

Robowolf: Let’s Make It Happen

, , , , | Related | November 13, 2017

(I’m watching a werewolf movie on TV. My father walks in just as the werewolf walks, fully transformed, onto the screen.)

Father: *excitedly* “Hey! It’s RoboCop!”

Me: “Um, isn’t it a bit too furry for that?”

Father: “No one said RoboCop can’t be furry.”

Fuzzy On The Definition

, , , , , | Romantic | November 13, 2017

(My husband and I are relaxing on a couch, individually looking at our phones. I’m absentmindedly running my hand over my scalp; I’ve recently gotten my hair trimmed almost buzz-cut short.)

Me: “I like it when my head is fuzzy.”

Husband: “Well, I don’t.”

Me: “What? Why?”

Husband: “I mean, I don’t really have a reason for it.” *sees my hurt look* “I mean, it’s not good when you’re having that weird, dizzy feeling, so I’m not sure why you’re so…”

Me: “Wait. Did you think… I meant my hair!”

Husband: “Oh! Be clearer next time!”

This Pregnancy Thing Is Beginning To Stick

, , , , , , | Romantic | November 12, 2017

(I have just taken a pregnancy test and discovered that I am not expecting. My husband and I are now heading out to the car to go about our day. In the elevator, my shoes make noise.)

Husband: “Did you step in something sticky?”

Me: “No, there’s just something on the floor.”

(I am amused by the sticky noises and start dancing in place, making lots of them. Then I start laughing.)

Me: “Are you sure I’m not pregnant?”

Husband: “I’m sure you’re not mature enough to be pregnant!”

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