Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 126
December 25, 2011
The Worst Thing for Christmas
Santa left a defective present under the tree last night. It was one of those cute little pop-up tents with an attachable tunnel. Santa usually assembles all presents that are left under the tree. He neglected to assemble this thing. It was still in the box. I think it was an omen of what was to come.
"Mommy, can you put my tent together?" my son asked.
"Sure." I had just woken up, so my brain was a little foggy. I pulled it out of the box and read the directions. It seemed easy enough. Just unfold and insert poles through the loops. That's what I did. Except, one set of poles was a little too long. As I attempted to jam the pole into the holding loop, the loop ripped. Then the fabric on top of the tent began to fray.
Argh!
"Mommy, you broke my toy from Santa!"
"It wasn't made very well," I said in self-defense.
"That's the worst thing that could ever happen on Christmas - a kid can't play with a toy from Santa!" He was near tears.
"Look. I know you're really disappointed. First thing Monday morning, I'll contact the elf shop and see what we can do about it."
"But that's in the North Pole."
"Mommy has connections."
He looked at me kind of funny.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," I assured him. "Now go play with your other toys."
What can I say? I guess even the elves aren't making quality products these days.
Merry Christmas everybody!
"Mommy, can you put my tent together?" my son asked.
"Sure." I had just woken up, so my brain was a little foggy. I pulled it out of the box and read the directions. It seemed easy enough. Just unfold and insert poles through the loops. That's what I did. Except, one set of poles was a little too long. As I attempted to jam the pole into the holding loop, the loop ripped. Then the fabric on top of the tent began to fray.
Argh!
"Mommy, you broke my toy from Santa!"
"It wasn't made very well," I said in self-defense.
"That's the worst thing that could ever happen on Christmas - a kid can't play with a toy from Santa!" He was near tears.
"Look. I know you're really disappointed. First thing Monday morning, I'll contact the elf shop and see what we can do about it."
"But that's in the North Pole."
"Mommy has connections."
He looked at me kind of funny.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," I assured him. "Now go play with your other toys."
What can I say? I guess even the elves aren't making quality products these days.
Merry Christmas everybody!
December 23, 2011
Gingerbread Village
Today, I had the brilliant idea to have a gingerbread-house-making party. I got this nice Winton gingerbread village kit and put the pieces in front of the kids.
"Have fun building!" I said.
They looked at me kind of funny.
"What do we do with this?"
"Uh, put it together and decorate it."
"How?"
Okay. So I guess I wasn't dealing with rocket scientists here.
"I'll put them together. You decorate them. Fair enough?"
"Yeah!" they said.
"So we have a couple of traditional houses, a church, an A frame, and, um..., an outhouse." (Well, I didn't know what else to call it.)
The girls took the traditional ones. And my son? He took the outhouse, of course.
"Mama, I'm going to open the door, so the guy can breath in there," my son said.
"What guy?" I asked.
"The gingerbread guy. He's using the potty."
Of course.
Two seconds later, the wall fell down.
"Oops. Mommy, can you fix this?"
I fixed it.
He loaded the roof up with icing and gum drops. Apparently it was too much for the roof, and it collapsed. Without thinking twice, my son popped the whole thing in his mouth.
Now that's what I call taking care of business.
"Have fun building!" I said.
They looked at me kind of funny.
"What do we do with this?"
"Uh, put it together and decorate it."
"How?"
Okay. So I guess I wasn't dealing with rocket scientists here.
"I'll put them together. You decorate them. Fair enough?"
"Yeah!" they said.
"So we have a couple of traditional houses, a church, an A frame, and, um..., an outhouse." (Well, I didn't know what else to call it.)
The girls took the traditional ones. And my son? He took the outhouse, of course.
"Mama, I'm going to open the door, so the guy can breath in there," my son said.
"What guy?" I asked.
"The gingerbread guy. He's using the potty."
Of course.
Two seconds later, the wall fell down.
"Oops. Mommy, can you fix this?"
I fixed it.
He loaded the roof up with icing and gum drops. Apparently it was too much for the roof, and it collapsed. Without thinking twice, my son popped the whole thing in his mouth.
Now that's what I call taking care of business.
December 22, 2011
Kiss Prints
This morning, as I was putting on my makeup, my son came and sat next to me.
"I love you, Mommy!"
I smiled. "I love you, too!"
Then he walked over to the bathroom mirror. He kissed it. "These kisses are for you!"
So now my mirror is covered with kiss prints. Should I wash my mirror?
Nah. I'll just leave them there for a few days.
"I love you, Mommy!"
I smiled. "I love you, too!"
Then he walked over to the bathroom mirror. He kissed it. "These kisses are for you!"
So now my mirror is covered with kiss prints. Should I wash my mirror?
Nah. I'll just leave them there for a few days.
December 21, 2011
Dirty Dog
Didn't I just take that varmint German Shepherd to the spa yesterday?
As I write, that beast is sitting in his crate covered in mud. How does he do it? His underbelly is black. His legs are black. And his feet are black. They are covered in at least a half inch of mud. (But he's still wearing his red bandana, and somehow that is clean and shiny.)
The question is, why did we even bother? He couldn't even stay clean for Christmas. The second question is, how can I let that beast outside without constant supervision. He's always getting dirty or in trouble.
I've determined it's a hopeless cause. I better go wash the floors now.
Sigh.
As I write, that beast is sitting in his crate covered in mud. How does he do it? His underbelly is black. His legs are black. And his feet are black. They are covered in at least a half inch of mud. (But he's still wearing his red bandana, and somehow that is clean and shiny.)
The question is, why did we even bother? He couldn't even stay clean for Christmas. The second question is, how can I let that beast outside without constant supervision. He's always getting dirty or in trouble.
I've determined it's a hopeless cause. I better go wash the floors now.
Sigh.
December 20, 2011
Doggy Spa
It was time to spruce the big old German Shepherd up for the holidays. The animal was just so revolting that something had to be done. So we signed him up for the doggy spa. He was to get a shampoo and haircut, a manicure and pedicure, and an ear cleaning job.
I hooked him to his leash, led him to the car, and threw his furry body inside. Of course, he had muddy paws. Those muddy prints covered my back seat in about two seconds flat. I entered the front seat and started the car.
Then I sniffed the air. "Dog, you stink! You smell like dirty socks! And now you're stinking up my car!"
He made a whiney sound.
"Don't worry, big guy. We'll get you fixed up."
When we arrived at the spa, Schultz was very excited. I handed him over to the worker, and he promptly dragged her to the back room.
"Have fun with him," I called, knowing they were in for a real treat.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had to completely disinfect my car. I vacuumed it, steam cleaned it, and got all the nose prints off the windows. It seemed that no sooner had I done that, I got a phone call from the grooming place. "We're done with Schultz."
Yeah, I bet they were done.
I picked him up. "He's a wild man," they said. "It took a few of us to hold him down to do his nails."
I nodded. "Uh huh. No surprise there. But he usually likes baths."
"Yeah," the worker said. "He did a lot of jumping around, though."
I thanked the workers and led the beast to the front doors. "Sit," I commanded. He sat.
"Wow!" the worker said. "I didn't know he could do that."
"Yeah. He's a son of a gun, isn't he?"
The worker laughed.
Well, at least he's clean, and he has a cute red bandana around his neck for Christmas. Let's see how long that lasts!
I hooked him to his leash, led him to the car, and threw his furry body inside. Of course, he had muddy paws. Those muddy prints covered my back seat in about two seconds flat. I entered the front seat and started the car.
Then I sniffed the air. "Dog, you stink! You smell like dirty socks! And now you're stinking up my car!"
He made a whiney sound.
"Don't worry, big guy. We'll get you fixed up."
When we arrived at the spa, Schultz was very excited. I handed him over to the worker, and he promptly dragged her to the back room.
"Have fun with him," I called, knowing they were in for a real treat.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had to completely disinfect my car. I vacuumed it, steam cleaned it, and got all the nose prints off the windows. It seemed that no sooner had I done that, I got a phone call from the grooming place. "We're done with Schultz."
Yeah, I bet they were done.
I picked him up. "He's a wild man," they said. "It took a few of us to hold him down to do his nails."
I nodded. "Uh huh. No surprise there. But he usually likes baths."
"Yeah," the worker said. "He did a lot of jumping around, though."
I thanked the workers and led the beast to the front doors. "Sit," I commanded. He sat.
"Wow!" the worker said. "I didn't know he could do that."
"Yeah. He's a son of a gun, isn't he?"
The worker laughed.
Well, at least he's clean, and he has a cute red bandana around his neck for Christmas. Let's see how long that lasts!
December 19, 2011
Eating the Crate
Apparently our German Shepherd is getting tired of being banished to his crate. He has come up with a solution: eat the crate.
A few days ago, I noticed a metal piece on the ground that looked like it came from his crate. I tried to see where it came from, but couldn't figure it out. Not giving it further thought, I went about by business.
Today, I heard a funny sound coming from the kitchen. I decided to investigate. I found the giant beast gnawing on his crate.
"Schultz! What are you doing?"
He stopped and cocked his head.
"Bad boy!"
He chomped on the metal bars of the cage and tugged.
So I don't know what his plan here is. Perhaps he's trying to eat his crate. Or maybe he's trying to move his house to a new address. Either way, the dog is an absolute nut case.
A few days ago, I noticed a metal piece on the ground that looked like it came from his crate. I tried to see where it came from, but couldn't figure it out. Not giving it further thought, I went about by business.
Today, I heard a funny sound coming from the kitchen. I decided to investigate. I found the giant beast gnawing on his crate.
"Schultz! What are you doing?"
He stopped and cocked his head.
"Bad boy!"
He chomped on the metal bars of the cage and tugged.
So I don't know what his plan here is. Perhaps he's trying to eat his crate. Or maybe he's trying to move his house to a new address. Either way, the dog is an absolute nut case.
December 17, 2011
Zombie Mama
My husband discovered the zombie app on his android today.
"Woman," he said. "Come here."
"What?" I asked as I walked over.
"Say cheese."
He took my picture with the android. Then he pressed a few buttons. A minute later, I heard some weird breathing sounds coming from the device.
"What the heck?" I said. I looked at the screen of the android. My face had been transformed into a zombie. I had blood running down my face, a hideous complexion, and evil eyes. My husband stuck his finger on the screen next to my "mouth" and I started chomping on his finger.
"It looks just like you."
Last week I was depicted as a fire-breathing dragon. This week a finger-munching zombie. What next?
"Woman," he said. "Come here."
"What?" I asked as I walked over.
"Say cheese."
He took my picture with the android. Then he pressed a few buttons. A minute later, I heard some weird breathing sounds coming from the device.
"What the heck?" I said. I looked at the screen of the android. My face had been transformed into a zombie. I had blood running down my face, a hideous complexion, and evil eyes. My husband stuck his finger on the screen next to my "mouth" and I started chomping on his finger.
"It looks just like you."
Last week I was depicted as a fire-breathing dragon. This week a finger-munching zombie. What next?
December 16, 2011
Elephant Toothpaste
"Mommy, we made elephant toothpaste in school, and it exploded all the way across the gym!" my daughter said.
"What?" I said. "First of all, what is elephant toothpaste? And second, why was it explosive?"
"I don't know," she said. "Mad Science came to school today. They mixed all this stuff up, and then they brushed a poster elephant's teeth with it. Then it exploded. And I helped!"
"Great. What else did you do?"
"We made this huge fire with chemicals."
"Uh, okay. Was the fire department notified?"
She shrugged. "Can we make elephant toothpaste at home?"
"What's in it?"
"I know there's yeast and some other chemicals."
"We're not making elephant tooth paste."
Now I'm going to search the cupboards and make sure I don't have any yeast lying around.
"What?" I said. "First of all, what is elephant toothpaste? And second, why was it explosive?"
"I don't know," she said. "Mad Science came to school today. They mixed all this stuff up, and then they brushed a poster elephant's teeth with it. Then it exploded. And I helped!"
"Great. What else did you do?"
"We made this huge fire with chemicals."
"Uh, okay. Was the fire department notified?"
She shrugged. "Can we make elephant toothpaste at home?"
"What's in it?"
"I know there's yeast and some other chemicals."
"We're not making elephant tooth paste."
Now I'm going to search the cupboards and make sure I don't have any yeast lying around.
December 15, 2011
Tap Dancing Lessons
"Mama, I'm going to give you a tap dancing lesson," my ten-year-old daughter said.
"Yeah. This should be good," I replied.
"Let's start with a falap."
"A what?"
"Falap. It goes like this." She demonstrated.
"Okay," I said. "Falap. Falap. Falap. Got it."
"Now you have to learn a shuffle ball change." She showed me how.
Somehow I did it without falling on my face.
"Now you're ready for a Buffalo."
"A what?"
"A buffalo."
"Is this a burger or a giant hairy animal?"
"Neither. Look." She showed me. I did it.
"Now you get to do a combo." She whipped through something really fast.
"Right," I said. "I'll just take a side of fries and a diet coke with that buffalo burger combo thing."
"Yeah. This should be good," I replied.
"Let's start with a falap."
"A what?"
"Falap. It goes like this." She demonstrated.
"Okay," I said. "Falap. Falap. Falap. Got it."
"Now you have to learn a shuffle ball change." She showed me how.
Somehow I did it without falling on my face.
"Now you're ready for a Buffalo."
"A what?"
"A buffalo."
"Is this a burger or a giant hairy animal?"
"Neither. Look." She showed me. I did it.
"Now you get to do a combo." She whipped through something really fast.
"Right," I said. "I'll just take a side of fries and a diet coke with that buffalo burger combo thing."
December 14, 2011
Dressing Like a Tween
Today I decided to get a little funky with my clothes. I dressed up in a cute tween Christmas shirt that had big-eyed animals on it with sayings like, "All I want for Christmas is the cutest puppy ever, the coolest friends ever, the sweetest candy ever," etc. I topped it off with borrowed candy cane earings from my daughter.
I actually went to a Christmas cookie exchange dressed like this.
When my daughter came home from school she said, "Awww. I love that shirt! Can I have it for Christmas?" Then she noticed my earings. "Did you take my earings?"
"Borrowed them."
"You look like me!"
Later that evening, a young lady came to the door with some kind of fundraiser. I answered the door. She looked at me. "Hi," she said. "Can I talk to your mother?"
She couldn't believe it when I grinned and said, "I am the mother!"
Ha!
I actually went to a Christmas cookie exchange dressed like this.
When my daughter came home from school she said, "Awww. I love that shirt! Can I have it for Christmas?" Then she noticed my earings. "Did you take my earings?"
"Borrowed them."
"You look like me!"
Later that evening, a young lady came to the door with some kind of fundraiser. I answered the door. She looked at me. "Hi," she said. "Can I talk to your mother?"
She couldn't believe it when I grinned and said, "I am the mother!"
Ha!
