This weekend was great. My two rugrats were home, so, R and the girls and I hung out and watched tv and made cookies and painted our fingernails and toenails hot pink (well, not R).
On Friday, the girls got some miniature Barbies in their Happy Meals and as soon as they got home, they had to find a male doll of equal size to play the boyfriend/hero/stinky-boy harrasser role. They found Mr. Incredible, aka Bob. R was quickly elected to play Bob. But mass confusion ensued when R chose to use Ralph as his name (said in a hero voice, of course), not Bob. "His name isn't Ralph, it's Bob!" echoed the chorus of giggling voices. After trading a few barbs, Ralph then proceeded to unceremoniously punch Fairy Princess Magical Pegasus Barbie in the face, thereby defeating her magical powers. (Ralph was playing the stinky-boy harrasser role this time.) Baaaad Ralph.
On Sunday, my little angels got into a waterfight while they were playing outside with a little neighbor girl (it was really hot) and drenched the house carrying water in and out, AND they ate what I was planning to have for dinner for a 'snack,' so they are grounded from tv and playing outside for the rest of yesterday and today. The bad thing about punishment is that it punishes the parents too, because you have taken away their normal modes of entertainment, which leads to much whining and squabbling. Sigh...
The most amusing part of the weekend occured on Saturday while I was sitting at the computer desk in our family room, surfing the web with R and Ashlyn sitting on the couch a couple feet away and Lauren standing behind me. I was on Yahoo's homepage, and there was a picture of Michael Jackson that accompanied an article dicussing how he was buying a home in Bahrain and planning to move there. Here is our conversation:
Lauren: Who is that?
Me: Michael Jackson
L: That's Michael Jackson?!
M: Yup. (chuckling)
L: He looks like a girl!
M and R: laughing out loud
L: And I thought he was black!
M and R: laughing uncontrollably
(I then proceed to google Michael Jackson's images to show her the differences.)
L (totally incredulous): I can't wait to tell all my friends what Michael Jackson really looks like!
Sometimes, an eight-year-old can show the wisdom of the ages.
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