This blog represents my opinions and my opinions alone, and certainly doesn't represent the collective thoughts of any of the Boards or organizations that I serve on. Unfortunately I make all sorts of miistakes, I'm a picky eater, I can't sing and I just recently found out I have been spelling certain words in my vocabulary wrong my entire life. That being said, I still continue to muddle ever onward. Welcome.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Breakfast In My House: A Tragicomedy In One Act

Scene: My house. 7am. Breakfast.

Me: (trying to brush my son Avery's hair. He has been growing it out for over three years for Locks of Love. Despite that fact, he refuses to acknowledge the necessity of ever brushing his hair) Avery, I think it's time to get your hair cut. It's really getting long! I can barely get a brush through your hair.

Avery: Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if you weren't the baddest mommy in the world.

Augustus: That's true. It wouldn't.

Avery: Yah, that IS true, that is why I said it.

Me: Avery, you need to get your hair cut.

Augustus: Yah, You don't want everyone to think you're dumb.

Avery: You're dumb.

Augustus: You're dumb.

Avery: No, you're dumb.

Dialogue ad finitum

Gerald: (making breakfast, quite possibly with both eyes closed) Mmmm, hmmmm.

Avery: Mommy, if I got my hair cut off, would I look like Daddy?

Me: Sure. You would look really nice. Let's get it cut after school today, okay?

Avery: (in abject horror) NNNNOOOOoooooooooo! NO WAY. I am NOT going to look like Daddy. He is too ugly. NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo!

Gerald: Mmmm, hmmmm.

Augustus: (sympathetically) Dad is not ugly. Right, Dad? You're just fat. Right, Dad? Right, Dad?

Avery: No, Mommy's fat. Mommy is really fat. Mommy is the fattest person who lives here.

Gerald: Mmmm, hmmmm.

Augustus: Mom's not fat, she's pregnant. You're dumb.

Avery: No, you're dumb.

Augustus: You're dumb and fat.

Avery: You're dumb, fat and you look like a hobo.

Dialogue ad finitum

Avery: Mommy, where are you going? Mommy! I need you to cut my hair before I can go to school. I can't even see. You aren't supposed to let my hair get this long. Mommy?

Augustus: Mom, I left my violin outside yesterday.

Avery: Mommy?

Augustus: Mom?

Dialogue ad finitum

Gerald: Mmmmm, hmmmm.

Avery: Mommy, spell I cup. Out loud. Mommy!

Curtains fall, or rather, quilt is pulled up over my head as I attempt to go back to bed.

Happy Mother's Day Weekend!

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