Seems my sisterwhoeatspoofortwo has set up a site for Field Marshal Noodles’ valet, in which she writes for the wee Nugget.
She asked me if this made her a Mommyblogger.
My response?
“No. Mommybloggers write as themselves. Not as their babies.
“Also, they swear.
“A lot.”
(Oh! You all know it’s true. Frighteningly true.)
So… how’s about y’all head on over? Say hi. Mess up the joint. Give it that “lived-in” look.
(No. You don’t need to take your shoes off. They’re cool.)
Wait. Is that even a review? Should I have called this “3-Word Directive”? “3-Word Injunction”? “Happy Fun Treehouse”?
Damn. It’s not even a treehouse, is it?
I may need a thesaurus.
And some scotch tape. Maybe some popsicle sticks.
Throw in some sofa cushions and I’ll build you one serious fort, mister!
…
I had a point here didn’t I?
Oh yeah.
…
Get this album. I’ve listened to it twice in a row this morning and I’m about to take another spin on the merry-go-round.
It’s keeping the kill-kill urges at bay!
My Lovely Wife has a very interesting quirk.
If she just barely wakes up — and I mean just barely — the weirdest stuff comes out of her mouth. She starts spouting off random, totally unrelated words. Like, “Horseradish! Samsonite! Palamino! Oligarchy!”
I’ve told her about this and sometimes she tries to fool me into thinking she’s asleep. But it’s never the same. She either just makes up completely nonsensical sounds — “Blah! Fneck! Schlurg!” — or uses words that are too small and/or related to each other — “Cat! Pee! And poop! Heehee!”
Not the same.
This morning however… she moved past words and into the realm of full-on sentences. I was up — like I so often am on Saturdays — at 7:00. (Stupid ingrained sleep patterns.) So I’m doing my regular tiptoeing around, getting the laptop, working my way through my RSS feeds.
Suddenly, My Lovely Wife’s head shoots up off the pillow and — without opening her eyes — turns her head from side to side and yells:
“Who’s there? What’s going on? Who killed Kennedy?”
And then she fell back asleep for another hour and a half.
Never boring.
Well folks, it’s been a good run and we all deserve a grilled cheese sandwich and then a short nap.
The adorable no-named sock monkey is no more!
May I present… NOODLES!
Or, “Mr. Noodles” to the more formally inclined.
Or “Field Marshall Noodles”, if he is your commanding officer in the Prussian army.
Either way… good work, peeps!
Grilled cheese ahoy!
…
UPDATE:
Plumber has come and gone. Thank goodness that’s taken care of.
…
UPDATE 2:
Relax. The Small One is fine. No animals were harmed in the making of this blog post.
But the plumber did snake the drain.
Which could be the dirtiest statement I have ever written.
