Monthly Archives: December 2009

Desperate times call for desperate measures

I’m referring, of course, to Miss Felicity.

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It took a couple times for me to realize what she was doing.

Or should we say, whom she was imitating.

She would walk into the bathroom, lift up her shirt/dress and stand with her belly pressed to the toilet.

Which is sort of what her brothers do. Except they’re taller.

(Though you couldn’t tell by their aim.)

She’s gonna be devastated when she learns the truth.

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She was hungry, so she took matters into her own hands.

I’m like, 16 months old.

I think I can get my own food.

Except when I can’t.

Next thing you’re going to tell me is that girls can’t pee standing up.

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There was no one around to watch Felicity, and I needed to take a shower.

She knows how to turn on the water.

She was annoyed by the tape, but she soon accepted it.

After she bit it.

She had one slightly wet boot. But I got a shower.

Roaring success, I’d say.

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Filed under Aren't my kids funny?, Girls are not boys

The ten commandments, part deux.

J, of course, said this when asked to recite the fifth commandment.

“Honor thy father and thy money.”

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Filed under Aren't my kids funny?

How to be famous in a small town.

Mr. French was going to stop by the library anyway, so I asked him to pick up the books I had waiting at the circulation desk.

When the librarian got back with the materials she exclaimed, “Are you the man who left the message on your wife’s voice mail even though she didn’t want you to?”

“…Uh…(laughing)…yeah, that’s me.”

“Oh, that is really funny. We get such a kick out of it.”

It’s no secret that I don’t like calling people and that generally extends to leaving voice messages as well. When we were setting up our phones, a couple years ago, I kept messing up the message so I begged Mr. French to just make one for me, thinking he would say something like, “You’ve reached the phone of so-and-so. Leave a message.”

But, no.

That’s not what he says.

Instead he says something along the lines of,

“Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail box of Rachel, my wife. She doesn’t really want me to do this but she’s unwilling to leave her own message. Feel free to leave a message and she’ll get back to you, I think. Did you want to say anything, honey? (Laughing in the background.)

I don’t think it’s that funny.

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Filed under I confess, Mr. French, This is going to be really funny one day