Foregone Conclusions

Mate:  You know, this new Ninja Turtle show is pretty good.

Me:  Right?  The dialog is fairly entertaining.

Conclusion:  Maturity is for the weak





Me:  Yeah, the Art Docent lesson plan called for oil pastels and watercolors.  I had them make dots with markers instead.

Squish's Teacher:  Oil pastels and watercolors?  IN A CLASS WITH THIRTY FIRST GRADERS?  *retroactive panic pant*  Yes-- I think the dots idea was a much better idea.

Conclusion:  Just like when I was teaching high school, the official lesson plan has no connection with reality.

Me:  The dog has been crapping every morning when I take him outside for his walk!

Mate:  That's great!  Apparently he's been crapping in other places in the house in the afternoons and evenings!

Me:  Shit shit shit shit shit...

Mate:  Pretty much.  Yes.

Conclusion:  Potty training a small dog isn't for the faint of heart.


Zoomboy, in front of Mate's friends:  Mom, you've got a booger.

Me:  STOP PICKING MY NOSE IN PUBLIC.

Zoomboy:  Hold still, I've almost got it!

Me:  GO AWAY!

Zoomboy (grumbling):  Fine, but I've almost got it.

Me (to Mate):  Is it gone?

Mate (handing me a Kleenex):  No.  A little to the right.  You taught him that you know.

Conclusion:  We do not always know what it is we teach.

Me, to Zoomboy's Class, as I'm teaching about pictures of trains:  Yes, when Zoomboy was little, we took him to the RR Museum.  He threw a tantrum and woke up in the middle of the night crying about the trains.

Zoomboy (and I can't confirm he thought this):  You had better send me away to school like Chicken, woman, or I'm gonna hit you with the therapy bill.


Conclusion:  Karma WILL get you, whether it's trains, children, madness, or all three.



Friend Wendy:  So, can we see your new clothes?

Me:  Uhm...

Mate:  Yeah, let's see your new clothes.

Me:  Uhm...

Mate:  There's certainly a LOT of them.

Me:  Uhm...

Mate:  They look good and all, but, well, that's a LOT of clothes.

Me:  The jeans had POCKETS!  And SNAPS!  And POCKETS!  Like jeans for REAL PEOPLE.  *wail*  I had to buy them.  I just had to.  It was a moral imperative.

Conclusion:  Yes.  Big girls really will pay a fortune to feel like the cool skinny kids with real pockets.


Fraud guy on phone:  So, we need to know if you charged $X on amazon.com.

Me:  NO.  We most emphatically did NOT charge $X on amazon.com.

Fraud guy:  Excellent.  We'll send you paperwork and a fraud claim number, and you can be reimbursed.

Me:  Thank you so much!  Goodbye!

(and as I am hanging up the phone)

Mate:  Squish... what are all these games doing on the Kindle?

Me:  Games?  How could she order games?  We were out of WiFi distance most of the time she had it.

Mate:  NOT WHILE SHE WAS AT HOME PLAYING IT.

Me:  OH HOLY GOD.  SQUISH!  VIDEO GAMES?  We could feed a small country for that!!!!

Mate:  AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

(A few minutes later, after a painful, tearful talk with Squish about money and stealing and asking for permission and why she isn't going to be playing with her iPod or going shopping at the craft store or getting new clothes for a good long time)

Mate:  This is all my fault.  I should have blocked the kids buying stuff like I did on their iPods.

Me:  This is all my fault.  I should have known all those games weren't free.

Mate:  You thought those games were FREE?

Me:  You blocked their buying stuff on their iPods?

Both of us:  FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK....

Mate:  I'm going to bed.

Me:  I'm going to knit.

Both of us:  I'M SOOOOOOO SORRY.  fuuuuuuuuuucccccccccccckkkkkkk.

Conclusion:  Parental controls aren't only for the weak or the inattentive.  That shit gets REAL, real fast!