An oldie but a goodie...

Figures.
I finally get around to setting up a blog, and they stop being funny.

So, I thought I'd take advantages of this momentary lull in funniness to catch up on some hilariousness from the past. Here are two of my favourites from the summer:

Clara:
I guess we went through a few drive-throughs this summer - something we don't normally do very often. Towards the end of Philip's swimming lessons, we had been through the drive-through almost daily for 2 weeks, as I tried to bribe/reward Philip for his great progress.

Anyway, we were heading down to Vermont to check out the Ben & Jerry's ice cream factory with my friend and her 2 little ones. As we reached the border crossing, my friend pulled the van (with all 4 kids) up to the booth with the security guard, and she rolled down her window.

Clara yelled from the backseat: "Cookie please mummy! Cookie!"




Philip:
We're at the cottage. I was up early one morning with Clara, and we were in the kitchen making pancakes or something while the boys slept.

Eventually, Philip woke up. We took off his pull-up, he went to pee off the deck, and he came back inside without his pajama pants on. (Not an uncommon thing here...) He wanted to see what Clara and I were doing, so he pulled up a chair to the kitchen counter. As he watched us, I noticed he was playing with his little penis. Rather rhythmically.



I asked him what he was doing, and he replied: "I want my penis to be up, because I'm up."



I guess they start young, eh?

Clara's rough afternoon

My poor Clara just had the world working against her this afternoon. Poor thing just couldn't get anything right.

We had some errands to run at a mall, and since it was so sticky & hot, she and Philip talked me into ice cream. She gets her little DQ cone, and as she's sitting in a chair, oh-so-excited, she notices a woman walking by with a seeing eye dog. She starts to frantically point out the puppy, with the ice-cream-holding hand of course, and the ice cream plops right out of her cone, onto the floor. It was 5:04, the mall was closing, the DQ people had closed up entirely. Philip reluctantly offered her a few licks, but it's not the same as holding your own ice cream. Poor kid. Screamed for her "I feem tone!" all the way home.

We get home, and one of the 'errands' was to get her a toy bottle for her beloved doll (Lala). She's been obsessed with feeding her, so I got her a bottle. We open it up, and she rushes over to the couch, to get Lala all tucked in and 'cozy' in preparation for her bottle. She goes to stand the bottle on the coffee table, but it won't stand. The base isn't flat - it's curved, and the damn thing doesn't stand. Poor thing, tries to stand it up a few dozen times, gets SO frustrated, that before I know it she's banging the bottle into the table trying to force it to stand, and in the end she just threw herself on the floor in a full-on tantrum. I can't blame the kid - who designs a bottle that won't stand?



So, I distract her by suggesting we go out & walk the dog. It's just been pouring rain for a bit, so I knew there'd be great puddles. They get their rain boots on, all is good. She insists on bringing Lala. I agree (against my better judgement...) We find puddles. Life is good. Clara oh-so-carefully puts Lala down beside a puddle (to keep her clean) and then proceeds to stomp through the puddle. She picks up Lala, and is disgusted to see that she's covered in gravel from the path. (She's one of those fabric-body-plastic-limbs-and-head kinds of dolls). I assure her we can clean Lala at home, and Clara does her best to brush her off. Crisis averted. I think.

Nope.

We keep walking, and Philip's telling me something, so I half dismiss what Clara is trying to tell me. She's pointing at a puddle, and I nod & smile, because - after all - we're here to stomp in puddles. I keep talking with Philip, and out of the corner of my eye I see that I should've listened to what she was saying. She was saying "Wash Lala". Ooops. She's got Lala bathing in the puddle. The muddy puddle, with tons of fresh grass clippings floating around in it. Lala comes out FILTHY.

Clara loses it. I'm starting to find this all pretty funny.

I can't do anything to help Lala at this point, so I tell Clara that Lala can have a bath with her tonight. She can only get cleaner at this point, eh?

We get home, we get through dinner (I open a bottle of wine...) and we head up for baths.

Lala goes in with them. Clara has SO much fun washing her. She's cleaner than she's ever been!
They get out, I towel them all off. Clara carries Lala to the family room, all bundled up in a towel. She oh-so-carefully dries her off, bit by bit. After a moment, she seems to just be wiping her face. Over and over again. And getting frustrated. She picks Lala up, rocks her, shushes her, and tells me "Lala crying." She tries to comfort her, which she often likes to do. I look over, and I see that Lala really IS crying.

Oh shit.

I suddenly have a flashback of a comment I heard months ago - about washing dolls with those blinky eyes. Lala's head is full of water, and it keeps pouring out of her eyes. She just won't stop crying. And Clara is LOSING it.