Wha?Wha??

Monday, Monday. . . .

Karen's away for a little bit, and I'm trying desperately to fill her shoes. you can see that I'm not quite as diligent as she is. She's so stinking good at the blog thing, and I'm just, well, not. I do try, but I'm not Karen. I own it. I accept it. (And I wear it with flair!)

So my children have been up to their usual shenanigans (don't you just love that word? Say it a few times. . .) These are the things I have overheard or been asked lately that made me go,"Wha?Wha?"

Things like:

Z1: Mom? When do I get to get tattoos across my chest?

Me: You don't, son. Period.

Z1: Well, Pappy has them. How did he get them?

Me: He was in the Navy, love. (Pappy has a mermaid on a rock on his chest).

Z1: I know, but I want to make a mermaid dance like that, too!

OR:

Z1: Hey Mom, I've decided that when I get into fifth grade, I'm going to get a bull ring put through my nose...

(I couldn't decided if I should say,"Over my cold, dead body" or just let that one lie. )

OR:

Z2 to Z1: Hey, Z1- remember that time you ate bird poop?

(What the heck??)

Yours, giggling at the thoughts of my two little hooligans,

Melissa