Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 111

Mister Professional

"Mama, are you a professional?"

I looked at my seven-year-old son as he shoveled his Dairy Queen meal into his mouth.  "Yes," I answered.  "I'm a professional musician."

"Oh," he said thoughtfully.  "I'm a professional, too."

"Really?  What are you a professional at?"

"Sitting."

I surpressed a smile.  "Okay.  What else?" 

"Eating ice cream."

"Dude," I said.  "That's pretty cool, but those aren't real jobs."

"I'm also a professional turtle hunter, and a professional master mind."

"A professional master mind?" I asked.  "What's that?"

"I'll show you," he said holding up a napkin.  "See this napkin?"

"Um, yeah."

"I'm going to make it levitate."

He set the thing on the table.  Right on cue, the wind picked it up and carried it off (we were eating outside).

He grinned.  "See, Mama.  I'm a professional professional."    

Breakfast Thief

This morning I made omlets for my family.  I put them on the table and stepped out of the room for a minute to call everyone in for breakfast.

A certain somebody decided he was ready.  He didn't need to be called.  Who was this certain somebody, you ask?  None other than my trouble making German Shepherd, Schultz.

I heard a funny slurping, chomping noise, and I  knew he was up to something.  I found him with his front paws on my son's chair, wolfing down my son's omlet.

"Schultz!"  I yelled.

He got off of that chair and looked at me.  A piece of cheese was still hanging from his snoot.

"What do you think you're doing?"

He cocked his head.  The cheese cocked with it.

Just then my son entered the room.  "Mama, did Schultz eat my breakfast?"

I looked at the plate.  "Not all of it.  He left about half for you."

Unfortunately, that half was covered in dog slobber.  So, I sent the dog to doggy jail and made another omlet.    When is that dog going to learn he's not a person?

Snake Funeral

"Mama!" my seven-year-old son said. "We found a dead diamond-back!" "Are you talking about a diamond-back rattle snake?" I asked. I was a little surprised, because I didn't think we had diamond-back rattle snakes in Cincinnati, Ohio. "Yeah!" I decided to investigate. I went out into the woods with my son, and he showed me the dead creature in the five-gallon bucket. It definitely was not a diamond-back rattle snake. "Dude," I said, looking at the disgusting thing that had flies zooming around it. "That's a garter snake." "Oh," he said. "But my friend said it was a diamond-back." "Your friend doesn't know what he's talking about. Now why don't you go ahead and bury this thing." I walked away. Then I heard a splash. "What was that?" I asked. "I buried it," my son said. "In the creek." Nice. (Of course my daughter scooped that thing out of the creek and gave it a proper burial, but no other snakes stopped by to hiss farewell. Such a pity!)

Walking the Boy

"Mama," my seven-year-old son said. "Can you take me for a walk?" I thought that was a strange request, but I agreed to do it, never bothering to look away from the mirror as I applied my makeup. The boy started giggling. "What?" I asked. I wondered if he was giggling about me putting on my makeup. That's when I looked at him. What do you think was around his neck? My dog's leash and collar. "What the heck are you doing?" I asked. "I want to go for a walk." "That's ridiculous," I said. "What do you think Schultz is going to think about you wearing his leash and collar?" My son grinned. "I don't know. Let's find out." He marched downstairs where Schultz was sitting by the front door. "Hi, Schultz!" Schultz cocked his head sideways and assessed the situation. Then he tried to grab the leash. Apparently he thought it would be great fun to take my son for a walk. I have a seriously messed up family!

Brownies, Please!

On Saturday, I'll be having a student recital for everyone I teach. Afterwards, there will be a reception. This means that I have a lot of baking to do, because I have about forty students. Yesterday I made my world-famous chocolate chip cookies - the ones I make at Christmas that my husband eats before Christmas, so that I have to make a new batch. Yeah, those. Of course he wanted to eat the whole batch. He complained loudly about his allotment of only two cookies. Today, I made brownies. About four neighborhood kids wandered into my house while I was making them. They must've smelled the scent of brownies wafting through the open window. I pulled them out of the oven and put them on a board to cool off. "Can we have some?" my daughter asked. "No," I said. "They're for the recital." One by one, the neighborhood kids came over to where the cooling brownies were. "Can we have some?" they asked. "No," I said again. Then my husband came into the room - Mister Sweet Tooth himself. "Are they ready yet?" "No." "How about now?" "No." "Now?" "No." Then he started with the chant: "Brownies!...brownies!... brownies!" All the kids joined in. The house was full of brownie chanters. "All right!" I shouted. "You can have a brownie!" "Yay!" I guess I had better go bake some more!

Last Day of School

Today was the last day of school. You'd think my kids would be thrilled about that. Nope. It was a very sad day for my offspring. They came off of the bus with some seriously sad faces. "Mama, it was the worst last day ever," my daughter said. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Why do you think that?" "My best friend is moving, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to her." "Oh, that's bad," I said. "Can you call her or email?" "No. She's in a hotel now." Major bummer. "And do you know what else?" she added. "What else?" "Two of my favorite teachers are retiring." Another major bummer. I guess there were lots of tears today. Even my son was sad because some of his friends were moving. Who would've thought that the last day of school could be so traumatic?

Potato Chip Muncher

I had left a bag of potato chips on the kitchen table. They were supposed to be for the party. Well, I stepped out of the room for two minutes. Guess who decided he wanted a snack? My big old German Shepherd. That's who. When I came back, that stupid dog had his big old snoot in the potato chip bag. "Schultz!" I yelled. "What are you doing?" He took his snoot out of the bag and finished chomping a potato chip. He gave me a look like, What do you think I'm doing? I grabbed that bag and looked inside. The chips were almost all gone. "You stupid varmint. Now there's none for the party!" He looked at me and burped. And then do you know what he did? He threw up! I kid you not. All over my nice carpet. "Serves you right, dummy," I said. "But you could've at least vomitted outside." Ugh. That dog!

Tagged!

Apparently there's a little game of tag going on in the blogosphere. I'm it. Thanks, Larissa T, from Papa is a Preacher for tagging me! Now, there are some rules to this game, but since I'm the Mama, I'm going to change them. Ha! The real rules are that I'm supposed to tell you 11 things about myself. Then I'm supposed to answer 11 questions I was asked. And then I'm supposed to make up 11 more questions and tag 11 bloggers to answer them. That sounds like way too much work, especially since I'm preparing for that surprise party which may happen at any moment. So, I'm just going to answer the questions I was asked, and then I'll tag however many bloggers I feel like tagging. Here goes: 1. Favorite Book? Tuesdays with Morray by Mitch Album. I haven't read it in a long time, but I remember thinking it was such a poignant story with a great message about what's really important in life. 2. Favorite color? Red. 3. Sweet/salty food? Sweet. Truthfully, though I prefer a combination. Chocolate covered pretzels are awesome. Which reminds me, I have to get that chocolate fountain out for the party. 4. Gift someone gave me that I'll always remember? My dad gave me an old antique doll for my fortieth birthday. It was just so sweet to think that I'm still daddy's little girl. 5. What is my favorite blog post? The one where my big old German Shepherd jumped into the bathtub with my unsuspecting son. (I tried to find the link, but didn't have luck. It's probably in an early 2011 archive or late 2010 archive. I just don't have time to look anymore.) 6. What annoys me? Slow drivers in the fast lane. And let me tell you, we have a lot of them in Cincinnati! (These run-on paragraphs from Blogger annoy me, too. Sorry if they're annoying you!) 7. Truth or dare (depends is not an option)? Hmmm. I'll go with truth, because my mom always taught me that I should be honest. 8. Did I collect anything as a kid? Yes. My parents introduced me to stamp collecting, but I'd have to say my real interest was in collecting rocks and seashells. I lived in Florida at the time, so I had quite a collection! 9. Bath or shower? Shower. I really don't like sitting in dirty water. 10. Would you ever use gel pens? Sparkly ones? Heck yeah! They make writing fun! 11. What makes you happy? Flowers, beautiful sunsets, quiet woods, babbling brooks - anything beautiful in nature...and meeting my writing deadlines! Now for the tagged bloggers. (If you get tagged, you can follow the real rules and use the same questions I answered, or do your own thing. I won't ground you if you decide to do that latter.) 1. Jabblog 2. Visions of Other Worlds 3. L. G. Smith 4. Brenda McKenna 5. Simon Willis 6. Tamara Narayan 7. Annmarie Pipa Be sure to stop by and visit these bloggers.

Mama the Tank

"Mama," my son said. "You're a tank." "Excuse me?" I said. I'm a rather petite individual, so I'm not exactly accustomed to being called a tank. And since I happened to be in the pool wearing a bathing suit, I wasn't too thrilled with that description. "Explain yourself." The boy crawled on my back. "You're a centaur tank. We're doing a military maneuver." He brandished his water gun and started spraying into the air. Oh. That made sense. So I played along with his little game, plowing over waves, reaking havock in the pool. Then the boy spotted my husband, who is considerably bigger than me. He hopped off my back and relocated on my husband's back. "Sorry, Mama," he said. "I need a bigger tank!"

Trouble in the Pet Shop

There seems to be a little trouble in my son's outdoor pet shop. Actually, there seems to be a little trouble regarding outdoor pets around here. It started when my son's friend came to the door, looking all distraught. "Did Bubba steal my turtle?" Huh? "I don't think so," I said. "Let me check." I went into the woods to see if my son had a turtle in his "pet shop" tank. He didn't. I asked him about the turtle. "Do you know anything about your buddy's missing turtle?" "No," he said. "I just saw it when I was over there. It was in a little container." Then he added, "Mama, my pet tadpoles are gone!" Uh oh. Sure enough, the tank was empty. Something a little fishy is going on here. I think we better keep an eye out for a possible critter thief!