Monday, May 05, 2008
Hey Girl
Last week Sarcasdad and I took the CP on a day trip to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. He liked the fish and the turtles and the sharks. He really liked the dolphins, although I am pretty sure his favorite "exhibit" were the escalators. We had 12:45 timed tickets for the 4-D theater, so after lunch we made our way there. We took our seats near the exit doors at the suggestion of the staff who said that small children are sometimes startled by the special effects and have to be taken out the theater. Another family with parents and grandparents and two little ones sat down in front of us. By chance a little girl, I would say about 5 years old sat right in front of the CP, who was immediately interested in making contact. He donned the 3-D glasses we were given on the way in and with a charm belying his tender age of three , told the little girl that he was "stylin". This led to a little back and forth between the two,but eventually the little girl exercised her female prerogative and changed her mind. Bored with the whole thing she turned around and sat down in her seat, giving the CP, the 5 year old brush off. Clearly, seeing this as a challenge, the CP pressed on undaunted. He took both mine and Sarcasdad's 3-D glasses and put them on his face. Not knowing the name of the object of his attentions, he called her simply, "Girl". 'Hey Girl ! Look at me. Hey Girl, am I crazy? Hey Girl". Initially she ignored him. Finally, still facing straight ahead in her seat she said "will you please sit down and leave me alone." There was no mistaking the tone. Even still, Sarcasdad had to tell him that it was a lost cause.
On Sunday the three of us took in the Backyardigans Live Show. We were early and in our seats when the family seated behind us arrived. A decidedly older woman, maybe 9, sat down behind the CP. He peered over the back of his seat at her, occasionally popping up to offer a tentative smile. Finally, right before the show started the lady in question showed some mercy and asked the CP if he liked the Backyardigans. That was all the encouragement he needed. The show started and held all of his attention. When the lights went up for intermission the CP wasted no time. He didn't have ant 3-D glassier this time. But he did have his genuine authentic cowboy hat that his Aunt Sarcasmo Jr. bought him when she was at a conference in Texas. According to his Mom he had been wearing it since he woke up that morning. The CP stood and faced the young woman. He lifted his cowboy hat from his head with a flourish worthy of John Wayne and Gene Autry ,brought the hat to rest against his chest, and said "Howdy Ma'am".
The little lady remained unmoved. I don't know how. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Last week Sarcasdad and I took the CP on a day trip to the National Aquarium in Baltimore. He liked the fish and the turtles and the sharks. He really liked the dolphins, although I am pretty sure his favorite "exhibit" were the escalators. We had 12:45 timed tickets for the 4-D theater, so after lunch we made our way there. We took our seats near the exit doors at the suggestion of the staff who said that small children are sometimes startled by the special effects and have to be taken out the theater. Another family with parents and grandparents and two little ones sat down in front of us. By chance a little girl, I would say about 5 years old sat right in front of the CP, who was immediately interested in making contact. He donned the 3-D glasses we were given on the way in and with a charm belying his tender age of three , told the little girl that he was "stylin". This led to a little back and forth between the two,but eventually the little girl exercised her female prerogative and changed her mind. Bored with the whole thing she turned around and sat down in her seat, giving the CP, the 5 year old brush off. Clearly, seeing this as a challenge, the CP pressed on undaunted. He took both mine and Sarcasdad's 3-D glasses and put them on his face. Not knowing the name of the object of his attentions, he called her simply, "Girl". 'Hey Girl ! Look at me. Hey Girl, am I crazy? Hey Girl". Initially she ignored him. Finally, still facing straight ahead in her seat she said "will you please sit down and leave me alone." There was no mistaking the tone. Even still, Sarcasdad had to tell him that it was a lost cause.
On Sunday the three of us took in the Backyardigans Live Show. We were early and in our seats when the family seated behind us arrived. A decidedly older woman, maybe 9, sat down behind the CP. He peered over the back of his seat at her, occasionally popping up to offer a tentative smile. Finally, right before the show started the lady in question showed some mercy and asked the CP if he liked the Backyardigans. That was all the encouragement he needed. The show started and held all of his attention. When the lights went up for intermission the CP wasted no time. He didn't have ant 3-D glassier this time. But he did have his genuine authentic cowboy hat that his Aunt Sarcasmo Jr. bought him when she was at a conference in Texas. According to his Mom he had been wearing it since he woke up that morning. The CP stood and faced the young woman. He lifted his cowboy hat from his head with a flourish worthy of John Wayne and Gene Autry ,brought the hat to rest against his chest, and said "Howdy Ma'am".
The little lady remained unmoved. I don't know how. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Thursday, May 01, 2008
A Little Help Over Here Please
I am having a bit of an issue of my blog. When I go back into my archives, past February 2007, it appears as though the post is missing. Actually, it is there but you have to mouse over the body of the post to make the words appear. The template shows up, as do hyperlinks and tags, although they look like a negative image of the actual post. Any ideas? I did have that server issue mentioned in the previous post, however, the server hosts my blog as a sub domain of my daughter's blog, http://www.sarcasmoscorner.com/. Her archives are fine. I did contact the web hosting company, but they were not able to help. When I go on Blogger and view old posts, they are in the same state. I tried Blogger help, but frankly, their idea of help and support leaves me without that warm and fuzzy feeling.
My girls gave me this blog as a Mother' Day gift. Star got me all set up and she was my technical support. If she were here, I am sure she would have this solved in a jiffy. Left on my own, I have managed to solve most of my blogging issues with a little research. But this one has me stumped.
Any ideas? Posted by Star
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My girls gave me this blog as a Mother' Day gift. Star got me all set up and she was my technical support. If she were here, I am sure she would have this solved in a jiffy. Left on my own, I have managed to solve most of my blogging issues with a little research. But this one has me stumped.
Any ideas? Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Stock Tip
The bad news is that the server that hosts my, and my daughter's blog crashed last Sunday night, leaving us both as a "webpage cannot be displayed" on the internet. The good news is that it is back up. The bad news is that it was down until Wednesday afternoon, and I don't think anyone noticed except for one young man who visits Sarcasmo's Corner. He emailed me to see if all was okay. (Thanks Chris). The good news is that I learned a new definition of the word "shortly" Apparently, when used by help desk personnel, as in, "this will be resolved shortly", or,
"service should be restored shortly" it means that the user has absolutely no idea what went wrong or when it will be fixed and rather than admitting this would lead you to believe that all is under control, and this is what was supposed to happen. Of course, when things were not resolved "shortly" I was sure that even though the fine person who answered my call promised that all my data was safe, that the Internet Gods had selectively restored all the other blogs, and not mine. This is how my mind works. If I had lost the archives of Wednesdays Off, I would have been disappointed, but not defeated. I can always start over. But had I lost all the brilliant words my daughter had written in her lifetime , that would have left me heartsick. Of course, now that everything is in working order I feel a little silly. But I still plan to make a back-up of all of her posts. Just in case.
Had the blog been up I would have told you that I saw my first red red robin, bob bob bobbin' along. So, in my mind ( the same one that jumps to fatalistic conclusions) it is officially springtime in Philadelphia. It is also primary election time in Philadelphia and its getting a little crowded in town. What with all the candidates, the pundits, the reporters and the National Tattoo Arts Convention. Since it is officially springtime, the grill is officially fired up. I even self cleaned the new oven, as I don't plan to use it again until after Labor Day. Which leads to the stock tip.
The CP was here for dinner one day and we had barbecued chicken and potato salad. The CP asked if we had any mashed potatoes because they are his favorite kind. I didn't, but I made a mental note to make sure I served them the next time we dined together. On Wednesday he was here for dinner. There was a yummy pork roast on the grill and some Bob Evans potatoes in the microwave oven. ( I said I would serve them, I didn't say I would mash them). I was watching a little Noggin with the CP when Sarcasdad called from the kitchen to ask if the potatoes were done.
"What kind of potatoes?" the CP asked
"Mashed potatoes" I said
He thought about it for a few seconds .
"The last time I was here I told you I wanted mashed potatoes. Did you make mashed potatoes for me?" he said.
"Of course" I replied.
He gave me the biggest hug his little arms could accomplish and said "Oh thank you Mom Mom. You are the very best Mom Mom"
Buy stock in Bob Evans. Their mashed potato sales are going to go up. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
"service should be restored shortly" it means that the user has absolutely no idea what went wrong or when it will be fixed and rather than admitting this would lead you to believe that all is under control, and this is what was supposed to happen. Of course, when things were not resolved "shortly" I was sure that even though the fine person who answered my call promised that all my data was safe, that the Internet Gods had selectively restored all the other blogs, and not mine. This is how my mind works. If I had lost the archives of Wednesdays Off, I would have been disappointed, but not defeated. I can always start over. But had I lost all the brilliant words my daughter had written in her lifetime , that would have left me heartsick. Of course, now that everything is in working order I feel a little silly. But I still plan to make a back-up of all of her posts. Just in case.
Had the blog been up I would have told you that I saw my first red red robin, bob bob bobbin' along. So, in my mind ( the same one that jumps to fatalistic conclusions) it is officially springtime in Philadelphia. It is also primary election time in Philadelphia and its getting a little crowded in town. What with all the candidates, the pundits, the reporters and the National Tattoo Arts Convention. Since it is officially springtime, the grill is officially fired up. I even self cleaned the new oven, as I don't plan to use it again until after Labor Day. Which leads to the stock tip.
The CP was here for dinner one day and we had barbecued chicken and potato salad. The CP asked if we had any mashed potatoes because they are his favorite kind. I didn't, but I made a mental note to make sure I served them the next time we dined together. On Wednesday he was here for dinner. There was a yummy pork roast on the grill and some Bob Evans potatoes in the microwave oven. ( I said I would serve them, I didn't say I would mash them). I was watching a little Noggin with the CP when Sarcasdad called from the kitchen to ask if the potatoes were done.
"What kind of potatoes?" the CP asked
"Mashed potatoes" I said
He thought about it for a few seconds .
"The last time I was here I told you I wanted mashed potatoes. Did you make mashed potatoes for me?" he said.
"Of course" I replied.
He gave me the biggest hug his little arms could accomplish and said "Oh thank you Mom Mom. You are the very best Mom Mom"
Buy stock in Bob Evans. Their mashed potato sales are going to go up. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Have You Heard the One ?
We have a friend who has decided to try his hand at stand-up comedy. I've heard some of his shtick, and he's actually funny. I would love to go and see him perform live, and as soon as he plays a club where he is on and off the stage before 9:30, I'm there. Until then I catch him on U-Tube.
We know another comedian who plays a little closer to home, and, is in bed by 9:30 as well. That would be the CP. He loooovvves a good knock knock joke. Or any good joke. Once he hears it , it is part of his repertiore. Yes, he is 3, and he has a repertoire.On Easter the family went to brunch and the CP made the rounds of the banquet table, cracking up the great -aunts and great -uncles.
---------------------------
"Knock Knock"
"Who's there?"
"Boo"
"Boo who?"
"Don't cry, it's only a joke"
--------------------------
"Why did the cookie go to the Dr.?"
"I don't now CP, why did the cookie go to the DR"
"Because he felt crummy"
-------------------------
I could go on, but I don't want to give away all of his material. This morning I was brushing my teeth and I heard a cute joke on the radio. I knew he'd love it, so I called him.
"CP, How does a dog turn off the DVD player"{the original joke was how did the dog turn off the VCR, but I didn't think he would know what that was! So I changed it)
"I don't know Mom Mom. How does a dog turn off the DVD player?". (The CP knows the proper sequencing of a good joke)
"He presses the "paws" button"
The CP giggled. "Do you get it?" I asked. "I get it" he replied. He's only 3, but I think he really does get it.
Understandably, Sarcas-sis is is proud that her little comedic prodigy can remember all the jokes, and tell them rather rapid fire,and in no particular order. Possibly she is also slightly apprehensive that this joke telling talent will lead to unwanted missives from teachers.
"Dear CP's Mom- We all love the CP's jokes, but would prefer he refrain from telling them during math class."
The CP's penchant for center stage comes naturally. His Mom, and her sisters all did their share of concerts, plays, and dance recitals. Sarcas-sis participated in a school talent show, I think in about fourth grade. She sang a solo (Mandy), played the piano (The Rose) and as the show finale she and a classmate put on a gymnastics demonstration that got them a standing ovation. As her teacher exited the auditorium she said to me "I had no idea she was so flexible"
----------------------
Knock Knock
(Who's there?)
Letter
(Letter who?)
Letter in-she's knocking!
Always leave them laughing. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
We know another comedian who plays a little closer to home, and, is in bed by 9:30 as well. That would be the CP. He loooovvves a good knock knock joke. Or any good joke. Once he hears it , it is part of his repertiore. Yes, he is 3, and he has a repertoire.On Easter the family went to brunch and the CP made the rounds of the banquet table, cracking up the great -aunts and great -uncles.
---------------------------
"Knock Knock"
"Who's there?"
"Boo"
"Boo who?"
"Don't cry, it's only a joke"
--------------------------
"Why did the cookie go to the Dr.?"
"I don't now CP, why did the cookie go to the DR"
"Because he felt crummy"
-------------------------
I could go on, but I don't want to give away all of his material. This morning I was brushing my teeth and I heard a cute joke on the radio. I knew he'd love it, so I called him.
"CP, How does a dog turn off the DVD player"{the original joke was how did the dog turn off the VCR, but I didn't think he would know what that was! So I changed it)
"I don't know Mom Mom. How does a dog turn off the DVD player?". (The CP knows the proper sequencing of a good joke)
"He presses the "paws" button"
The CP giggled. "Do you get it?" I asked. "I get it" he replied. He's only 3, but I think he really does get it.
Understandably, Sarcas-sis is is proud that her little comedic prodigy can remember all the jokes, and tell them rather rapid fire,and in no particular order. Possibly she is also slightly apprehensive that this joke telling talent will lead to unwanted missives from teachers.
"Dear CP's Mom- We all love the CP's jokes, but would prefer he refrain from telling them during math class."
The CP's penchant for center stage comes naturally. His Mom, and her sisters all did their share of concerts, plays, and dance recitals. Sarcas-sis participated in a school talent show, I think in about fourth grade. She sang a solo (Mandy), played the piano (The Rose) and as the show finale she and a classmate put on a gymnastics demonstration that got them a standing ovation. As her teacher exited the auditorium she said to me "I had no idea she was so flexible"
----------------------
Knock Knock
(Who's there?)
Letter
(Letter who?)
Letter in-she's knocking!
Always leave them laughing. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Monday, March 10, 2008
Philosophically Speaking
I was turned around talking to the CP who was strapped into his carseat behind me. I heard a sharp intake of breathe and an "OMG " from the driver's seat. "What happened ?" I asked . Sarcas-sis pointed across the 12 lane divided highway. "That tree just fell over !" she said. Sure enough. A very tall piney type tree was lying across the three outer southbound lanes of Route 1. Two days of rain and gale force winds must have been more than the tree could withstand. Miraculously it appeared that on this very busy highway, the tree had managed to fall without inflicting serious damage on any autos, although I am sure there were some raised heartbeats among the drivers.
It was not lost on me that there was an opportunity to witness an unusual event , and I was looking the other way. But besides that, I can say this. A tree fell, and I didn't hear a sound. Of course t wasn't in the woods. And we had the windows up.
Not conclusive proof of anything , I'll grant you. But no less valid than other hypotheses. Posted by Star
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It was not lost on me that there was an opportunity to witness an unusual event , and I was looking the other way. But besides that, I can say this. A tree fell, and I didn't hear a sound. Of course t wasn't in the woods. And we had the windows up.
Not conclusive proof of anything , I'll grant you. But no less valid than other hypotheses. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Non- Parochial Script
When I was growing up there were two school systems where I lived. The Public School system and the Parochial School system. On the street you were either a "public" or a "catholic" As a public. living in the shadow of a heavily populated Catholic church and school, I learned to adjust. If you asked me where I lived I was likely to tell you in "St. Martin's Parish" even though I had never set foot inside the sanctuary. It was easier, and everyone knew where I meant. I also gave up somethng for lent every year, because all my friends did. I was practically an adult before I found out that was a "catholic thing" and I had ben sacrificing for naught.
There were a few marked differences between Catholics and Publics. The Catholic kids wore uniforms to school. We wore regular clothes. In the 60's that meant dresses for girls and dreess pants and sweater vests for boys. Practically a uniform itself, and not the jeansT-shirts and navel jewelry sported by today's public school attendees.
There were holidays. We, the publics had about five national holidays not including Christmas and Easter break. The Catholic kids got off for "saints days" of which there seemed to be one a week. Since the 60's the Catholic church demoted a lot of those saints, and rolled the days off up into one, much like we Publics did with President's Day.
And, there was the handwriting. Public school kids had to print in block leters until we were in about third grade. The Catholic kids, well, they learned cursive right away. And we Publics heard all the horror stories. Stories of nuns with rulers cracking knuckles of those who couldn't fill a page with perfect A's and B's. Of hours spent laboring over upper and lower cases. But oh, the handwriting. A thing of beauty. I did not know one Catholic pupil, male or female, who did not learn how to produce the written word as a thing of beauty. As an adult I worked with a man who had attended Catholic school. His handwriting was a sight to behold. Always perfect. Part of his job was to enter numbers in small boxes on a large spreadsheet. In the days before computers, it was done by hand. It required a copy, and everyone else used carbon paper. Not Bob. He made two seperate original copies every week. There was never an erasure or a smudge on either one. There was no difference between the "original" and the "copy."
In contrast. my public school taught penmanship is deplorable. Mine was even sub -par by Public standards. It was often the grade that kept me from straight A's on my report card, although occaisionally a teacher felt my pain and gave me a pity "A". My handwriting, to this day, dependant upon writing implement and writing surface can vary anywhere from barely legible to chicken scratch. Had I been a male it would probably not mattter in the least but being female I was expected to have some degree of control over the written alphabet.
Knowing all of this you might think I would take care when putting pen to paper. Were that the case I would not have been wandering grocery aisles while on the phone with Sarcas-sis, trying to figure out the last item on a grocery list that I had written. It looked like "Wash slaw". I gave up and went home without the item, only to realize when I was making my favorite chili recipe the next day that I had no Worcestershire Sauce.
I seem to operate under the mis-conception that if I write it I will of course know what it says, Even when I use short hand. This is why when I was in a car with Sarcasmo Jr. this weekend as we shopped for things she needed for her new apartment I was saying' Okay, we got he mattress, the tea kettle and the fire extinguisher, but what is this last item?" Sarcasmo Jr., took a look . Well there's an "S". and is that a "P" or an R" ? she asked. I had to admit that even though I had jotted our shopping agenda on the back of a business card only an hour earlier, I had no idea what "Swd Pipn" was. Hours later, I realized we had forgotten to pick up a Sunday paper. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
There were a few marked differences between Catholics and Publics. The Catholic kids wore uniforms to school. We wore regular clothes. In the 60's that meant dresses for girls and dreess pants and sweater vests for boys. Practically a uniform itself, and not the jeansT-shirts and navel jewelry sported by today's public school attendees.
There were holidays. We, the publics had about five national holidays not including Christmas and Easter break. The Catholic kids got off for "saints days" of which there seemed to be one a week. Since the 60's the Catholic church demoted a lot of those saints, and rolled the days off up into one, much like we Publics did with President's Day.
And, there was the handwriting. Public school kids had to print in block leters until we were in about third grade. The Catholic kids, well, they learned cursive right away. And we Publics heard all the horror stories. Stories of nuns with rulers cracking knuckles of those who couldn't fill a page with perfect A's and B's. Of hours spent laboring over upper and lower cases. But oh, the handwriting. A thing of beauty. I did not know one Catholic pupil, male or female, who did not learn how to produce the written word as a thing of beauty. As an adult I worked with a man who had attended Catholic school. His handwriting was a sight to behold. Always perfect. Part of his job was to enter numbers in small boxes on a large spreadsheet. In the days before computers, it was done by hand. It required a copy, and everyone else used carbon paper. Not Bob. He made two seperate original copies every week. There was never an erasure or a smudge on either one. There was no difference between the "original" and the "copy."
In contrast. my public school taught penmanship is deplorable. Mine was even sub -par by Public standards. It was often the grade that kept me from straight A's on my report card, although occaisionally a teacher felt my pain and gave me a pity "A". My handwriting, to this day, dependant upon writing implement and writing surface can vary anywhere from barely legible to chicken scratch. Had I been a male it would probably not mattter in the least but being female I was expected to have some degree of control over the written alphabet.
Knowing all of this you might think I would take care when putting pen to paper. Were that the case I would not have been wandering grocery aisles while on the phone with Sarcas-sis, trying to figure out the last item on a grocery list that I had written. It looked like "Wash slaw". I gave up and went home without the item, only to realize when I was making my favorite chili recipe the next day that I had no Worcestershire Sauce.
I seem to operate under the mis-conception that if I write it I will of course know what it says, Even when I use short hand. This is why when I was in a car with Sarcasmo Jr. this weekend as we shopped for things she needed for her new apartment I was saying' Okay, we got he mattress, the tea kettle and the fire extinguisher, but what is this last item?" Sarcasmo Jr., took a look . Well there's an "S". and is that a "P" or an R" ? she asked. I had to admit that even though I had jotted our shopping agenda on the back of a business card only an hour earlier, I had no idea what "Swd Pipn" was. Hours later, I realized we had forgotten to pick up a Sunday paper. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Tattletale
We were gathered in the living room the other night, when Sarcas-sis said "did I tell you the guitar story?" She hadn't. She nodded twards the CP who was quite comfortably situated next to me on the sofa." Not in front of him, he'll get embarassed." Seizing on a request for chocolate milk she banished the boy and his grandfather to the kitchen which gave her the opportunity to relate the tale.
Before I retell it, I remind you that Sarcas-dad and I raised three girls, no boys. My siblings were much older so I grew up as an "only" child. When the CP arrived I ferverently hoped I would know what to do with a boy. I knew Barbie, not Tonka.
So far, so good. Little boys, or a least this little boy, are awesome. I may be new to this cars and trucks and bat and ball thing, but so is he, and we are learning all about it together. When he graduated from diapers to Speed Mcqueen underwear I knew it would be a little different than my past experiences. For instance, the girls never did elephant imitations when they were done going potty. It makes me laugh, although I am pretty sure I am not suppossed to be encouraging him.
The other day, a teacher at the daycare told Sarcas-sis that the CP was taking longer than usual to go potty. She asked if he was okay and he replied in the affirmative. He still didn't come out so the teacher peaked over the door of the tot-sized stall. There as the CP, seated, and playing air guitar, Only he had a prop. If you know what I mean.
It was a prety funny story, at least as Sarcas-sis told it while the boys mixed chocolate milk in the ktchen. We had to wipe tears from our eyes as we laughed. And then she said " you can blog this if you want to". I can ? We couldn't talk about it in front of him lest we embarass him, but we can put it out on the internet? We aren't the Sacas-family for nothing. So I said "you have a blog; it's your story." But she claims to be too busy. Hmmmm. Am I being set up here?
CP, if somewhere in the near or distant future, you should find out that your beloved Mom-Mom posted the embarassing story about you sitting on the potty at daycare and playing "guitar", I want you to know.-Your Mother told me to do it. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
Before I retell it, I remind you that Sarcas-dad and I raised three girls, no boys. My siblings were much older so I grew up as an "only" child. When the CP arrived I ferverently hoped I would know what to do with a boy. I knew Barbie, not Tonka.
So far, so good. Little boys, or a least this little boy, are awesome. I may be new to this cars and trucks and bat and ball thing, but so is he, and we are learning all about it together. When he graduated from diapers to Speed Mcqueen underwear I knew it would be a little different than my past experiences. For instance, the girls never did elephant imitations when they were done going potty. It makes me laugh, although I am pretty sure I am not suppossed to be encouraging him.
The other day, a teacher at the daycare told Sarcas-sis that the CP was taking longer than usual to go potty. She asked if he was okay and he replied in the affirmative. He still didn't come out so the teacher peaked over the door of the tot-sized stall. There as the CP, seated, and playing air guitar, Only he had a prop. If you know what I mean.
It was a prety funny story, at least as Sarcas-sis told it while the boys mixed chocolate milk in the ktchen. We had to wipe tears from our eyes as we laughed. And then she said " you can blog this if you want to". I can ? We couldn't talk about it in front of him lest we embarass him, but we can put it out on the internet? We aren't the Sacas-family for nothing. So I said "you have a blog; it's your story." But she claims to be too busy. Hmmmm. Am I being set up here?
CP, if somewhere in the near or distant future, you should find out that your beloved Mom-Mom posted the embarassing story about you sitting on the potty at daycare and playing "guitar", I want you to know.-Your Mother told me to do it. Posted by Star
Permanent Link |
