Monday, September 14, 2009

Time to get out the Colgate

Angel #4 has been watching this 5 minute how-to show called Howdini on Hulu and has been paying special attention to the cake decorating ones. Today she decided to make a cake that looked like a pair of blue jeans. She talked her father into buying candy decorations and she used them heavily. So she made a strawberry flavored cake with cream cheese frosting and tons of Skittles and Good N' Plenties on them. I haven't even eaten a piece and my teeth are rotting.

Saturday night Angel #2 was out and told us that a boy was taking her home and she'd be here shortly. Soon after, a car pulled up at the end of the driveway. Explanation: Our driveway has a gate at the end which only opens via remote control, we also have a driveway that is a driving challenge in the best of situations and most people don't care to try it at night if they can help it. So, most people picking up/dropping off kids, just drop them at the end of the drive and the kid walks from there. Now, back to the story. Hubby notices the car at the end of the driveway and starts to think that maybe it's sitting down there with no outside action going on for a bit too long. But, he doesn't want to look like a psychotic, over-protective father (even though is kind of is one) so he wanders over by WE and whispers in his ear that he thinks #2 is making out at the end of the driveway and that WE should sneak down there and surprise her. Yeah, he's an evil dad. WE got about halfway down the drive when the car left w/out disgorging #2. False Alarm By this time though, WE can hear all the wild pigs that wander our yard snorting and grunting in the woods along the driveway and freaked out so when #2 and the boy really ARE at the end of the driveway for an inordinate amount of time, he won't go down there to 'surprise' them. Angel #2 should thank her lucky stars her brother's afraid of wild pigs.

#2 was also talking the other day about her unwillingness to empathize with others. She gets that from me whose attitude about complainers is that they should either suck it up or do something about it. She then tells me today that a friend of hers who thinks she's a bit of a princess complained on her MySpace status that she had "a horid day and it was all someone else's fault". My daughter, Miss Empathy, commented simply that she'd spelled horrid wrong. That's my girl!

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