Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 132
October 21, 2011
Mr. Manners
No, I'm not talking about my German Shepherd. He has no manners whatsoever. I'm talking about my seven-year-old son.
The poor kid came home from school with a sore throat and fever. He didn't look too good, so I thought it would be best to take him in to see the doctor. I suspected strep throat.
We went to the doctor's office, and the little guy struck up a conversation.
"Hello. How has your morning been going?"
The receptionist looked over the counter to see just who was asking about her morning.
"Well, how do you like that," she said. "We very rarely get little people asking about our mornings. My morning has gone well. Thank you for asking."
Then we were escorted into another room to await the doctor. When he came in, the doctor introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you , sir," my son said.
The doctor was impressed.
My little man did indeed have strep throat.
As we left with our prescription, Mr. Manners called over his shoulder, "Have a nice day, everyone."
Wow. If only I could be so pleasant when I'm feeling so awful!
The poor kid came home from school with a sore throat and fever. He didn't look too good, so I thought it would be best to take him in to see the doctor. I suspected strep throat.
We went to the doctor's office, and the little guy struck up a conversation.
"Hello. How has your morning been going?"
The receptionist looked over the counter to see just who was asking about her morning.
"Well, how do you like that," she said. "We very rarely get little people asking about our mornings. My morning has gone well. Thank you for asking."
Then we were escorted into another room to await the doctor. When he came in, the doctor introduced himself.
"Nice to meet you , sir," my son said.
The doctor was impressed.
My little man did indeed have strep throat.
As we left with our prescription, Mr. Manners called over his shoulder, "Have a nice day, everyone."
Wow. If only I could be so pleasant when I'm feeling so awful!
October 20, 2011
New Floor Cleaner, Please
My ten-year-old daughter has a few chores to do around the house. One of those chores is to sweep and mop the floor every other day.
Today, she was cleaning up a particularly muddy mess the dog had left. (It has been raining outside, and when the dog comes in, there is inevitably a rather noticable trail of mud.)
"Mommy, this stinks!' she complained.
"You're the one who wanted a German Shepherd," I said.
"No, I didn't," she corrected. "Daddy wanted a German Shepherd. I wanted a Yorkie-poo."
"Yeah, but you still wanted a dog."
She made a face. "You know what we need?"
"What?"
"One of those floor cleaners they have at school. You just sit on it and drive it around. It cleans up everything."
"Okay. How much is that going to cost, and where are we going to put it?"
"I don't know. But we can put it in the garage next to Daddy's motorcycle."
All right, then. I'm sure Daddy will be thrilled.
Today, she was cleaning up a particularly muddy mess the dog had left. (It has been raining outside, and when the dog comes in, there is inevitably a rather noticable trail of mud.)
"Mommy, this stinks!' she complained.
"You're the one who wanted a German Shepherd," I said.
"No, I didn't," she corrected. "Daddy wanted a German Shepherd. I wanted a Yorkie-poo."
"Yeah, but you still wanted a dog."
She made a face. "You know what we need?"
"What?"
"One of those floor cleaners they have at school. You just sit on it and drive it around. It cleans up everything."
"Okay. How much is that going to cost, and where are we going to put it?"
"I don't know. But we can put it in the garage next to Daddy's motorcycle."
All right, then. I'm sure Daddy will be thrilled.
October 19, 2011
Bad Fortune
My husband had gone to the Chinese restaurant and ordered some take out food. When he got home, he put it on the counter and walked away.
Bad move.
Our big German Shepherd got a whiff of that stuff. He decided he wanted some.
He jumped up and grabbed a fortune cookie.
"Daddy!" my daughter said. "Schultz ate your fortune cookie!"
Daddy was not happy.
"Bad dog!" he bellowed. "How am I supposed to read my fortune?"
"Well," I said. "I think you may have to go outside in a day or two and see if can find a little paper sticking out of some doggy business."
Right on cue, the dog passed some gas. Loudly.
Way to go, Schultz.
Bad move.
Our big German Shepherd got a whiff of that stuff. He decided he wanted some.
He jumped up and grabbed a fortune cookie.
"Daddy!" my daughter said. "Schultz ate your fortune cookie!"
Daddy was not happy.
"Bad dog!" he bellowed. "How am I supposed to read my fortune?"
"Well," I said. "I think you may have to go outside in a day or two and see if can find a little paper sticking out of some doggy business."
Right on cue, the dog passed some gas. Loudly.
Way to go, Schultz.
October 18, 2011
Stinkin' Butterflies
My son used to love chasing butterflies. They were the best little critters in the world. It seems that things have changed.
He was doing his math homework after school, and he had an issue making a number nine. He made the circle go the wrong way.
"Dude, check out the nine. It's backwards," I said.
He grimaced as he erased and corrected it. You could still see the lines from his mistake.
"It looks like a stinkin' butterfly," he complained.
Can you believe it? Picking on butterflies. What ever happened to my sweet little boy?
He was doing his math homework after school, and he had an issue making a number nine. He made the circle go the wrong way.
"Dude, check out the nine. It's backwards," I said.
He grimaced as he erased and corrected it. You could still see the lines from his mistake.
"It looks like a stinkin' butterfly," he complained.
Can you believe it? Picking on butterflies. What ever happened to my sweet little boy?
October 17, 2011
The Ukelele
I went out in the garage and found my son rummaging through the recycle bin.
"What are you doing?"
"A project."
I looked at him quizzically. "What kind of project?"
"You'll see."
Ten minutes later, he was taping a paper towel roll to a milk jug. Then he attached a rubberband.
"Ta-da!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"A ukelele, of course."
"Of course." I looked at the concoction. "Does it play?"
"Yeah, listen." He strummed a tune.
I was impressed. The boy is a musical genious, or something. Do you think he got it from me?
"What are you doing?"
"A project."
I looked at him quizzically. "What kind of project?"
"You'll see."
Ten minutes later, he was taping a paper towel roll to a milk jug. Then he attached a rubberband.
"Ta-da!"
"What is it?" I asked.
"A ukelele, of course."
"Of course." I looked at the concoction. "Does it play?"
"Yeah, listen." He strummed a tune.
I was impressed. The boy is a musical genious, or something. Do you think he got it from me?
October 16, 2011
Amnesia
My seven-year-old son came in from playing outside in the woods. He had a look on his face that said, "I was definitely up to something." I decided to find out what.
"You look a little guilty. What did you do?"
"Nothing."
I guess that was the answer I expected.
Then he turned around. His bottom was a muddy mess.
"Um, if you did nothing, why are your pants all muddy?"
"I don't know."
"Okay, let me take a look at you." I went to check out his pants, and noticed that he winced when I touched his back. I lifted up the back of his shirt. His entire back was dirty and scraped.
"How did you do this?"
"I don't remember."
"You can't remember falling down and scraping yourself?"
"No..."
Then I gave him one of my mean mommy looks.
"Well..."
The truth came out. He was doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, someplace where he wasn't supposed to be.
I knew his case of amnesia was one of those fake jobs.
Kids.
"You look a little guilty. What did you do?"
"Nothing."
I guess that was the answer I expected.
Then he turned around. His bottom was a muddy mess.
"Um, if you did nothing, why are your pants all muddy?"
"I don't know."
"Okay, let me take a look at you." I went to check out his pants, and noticed that he winced when I touched his back. I lifted up the back of his shirt. His entire back was dirty and scraped.
"How did you do this?"
"I don't remember."
"You can't remember falling down and scraping yourself?"
"No..."
Then I gave him one of my mean mommy looks.
"Well..."
The truth came out. He was doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing, someplace where he wasn't supposed to be.
I knew his case of amnesia was one of those fake jobs.
Kids.
October 15, 2011
Bad Dogs
Yep. It's time for another dog story. This time, you get a bonus, because there are two bad dogs in this one. The first is of course, my wonderful German Shepherd. The second is our notorious neighboring Husky. You know, the one who sliced my dog's ear when he was a puppy, and the one who recently came into our yard and killed a cat.
Apparently the Husky dog really wanted to play with my dog. After the cat incident, our neighbor "secured" the boundry by adding huge boulders along the fenceline. You'd think that would stop the varmint from crossing the border. Nope.
My daughter came running into the house. "Mommy, the Husky is in our yard. He jumped over the fence!"
"Are you kidding? That thing is like five feet high!"
She wasn't kidding. The Husky was in our yard "playing" with our German Shepherd.
Those boys were a little on the wild side. It looked like they were killing each other, but their tails were wagging, so I guess it was okay.
We notified the neighbor, and he came and got his beast.
End of that story.
Next story: I put dinner out on the kitchen table. I turned my back, and the next thing I knew, was that my big old German Shepherd had his paws up on the table. He had wolfed down an entire piece of fish, and was slurping up milk from my daughter's glass.
"Schultz!"
He licked his chops an gave me one of his soulful looks.
"Crate!"
Banished again.
Apparently the Husky dog really wanted to play with my dog. After the cat incident, our neighbor "secured" the boundry by adding huge boulders along the fenceline. You'd think that would stop the varmint from crossing the border. Nope.
My daughter came running into the house. "Mommy, the Husky is in our yard. He jumped over the fence!"
"Are you kidding? That thing is like five feet high!"
She wasn't kidding. The Husky was in our yard "playing" with our German Shepherd.
Those boys were a little on the wild side. It looked like they were killing each other, but their tails were wagging, so I guess it was okay.
We notified the neighbor, and he came and got his beast.
End of that story.
Next story: I put dinner out on the kitchen table. I turned my back, and the next thing I knew, was that my big old German Shepherd had his paws up on the table. He had wolfed down an entire piece of fish, and was slurping up milk from my daughter's glass.
"Schultz!"
He licked his chops an gave me one of his soulful looks.
"Crate!"
Banished again.
October 14, 2011
Cooking School
Apparently my daughter saw the sandwich concoction my son made yesterday. She decided he needed a little help.
"We're going to have cooking classes," she announced. "They will be held every Thursday at 6:00 PM."
Fabulous.
The first recipe in the class was frozen yogurt - with pears. It's still in my freezer.
Here's the next recipe:
Cabbage roll:
Ingredients: long pieces of cabbage, skinny carrots, onions, poppy seed dressing.
Steps: 1. Get a long piece of cabbage and slather it in the dressing.
2. Chop up onions, and carrots, and put them in the cabbage. (In an orderly fashion).
3. Roll up cabbage
4. Eat your snack
This was taken directly from her handbook (or cookbook, or whatever you want to call it.)
I think we'll all be top chefs by the time she's done with us.
"We're going to have cooking classes," she announced. "They will be held every Thursday at 6:00 PM."
Fabulous.
The first recipe in the class was frozen yogurt - with pears. It's still in my freezer.
Here's the next recipe:
Cabbage roll:
Ingredients: long pieces of cabbage, skinny carrots, onions, poppy seed dressing.
Steps: 1. Get a long piece of cabbage and slather it in the dressing.
2. Chop up onions, and carrots, and put them in the cabbage. (In an orderly fashion).
3. Roll up cabbage
4. Eat your snack
This was taken directly from her handbook (or cookbook, or whatever you want to call it.)
I think we'll all be top chefs by the time she's done with us.
October 13, 2011
Top Chef
"Mom, I want to make my own lunch for school tomorrow," my seven-year-old son announced.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I want to see what it's like to be a grown-up. Someday I'm going to have to make lunches for my kids."
"Oh. Okay. Have at it."
A few minutes later, he called me into the kitchen. "Check out my sandwich."
This thing had no less than five pieces of bread. In between each slice was a piece of ham, roast beef, and cheese.
"Seriously? Do you really think you can fit that in your mouth?"
He opened his mouth. Apparently he would have no trouble chomping it to bits.
"Dude, if you ever have kids, there's no way they're going to be able to take a bite out of something like that."
"Oh, I'm not worried. They're going to be just like me."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I want to see what it's like to be a grown-up. Someday I'm going to have to make lunches for my kids."
"Oh. Okay. Have at it."
A few minutes later, he called me into the kitchen. "Check out my sandwich."
This thing had no less than five pieces of bread. In between each slice was a piece of ham, roast beef, and cheese.
"Seriously? Do you really think you can fit that in your mouth?"
He opened his mouth. Apparently he would have no trouble chomping it to bits.
"Dude, if you ever have kids, there's no way they're going to be able to take a bite out of something like that."
"Oh, I'm not worried. They're going to be just like me."
October 12, 2011
Branch Head
I was doing a little fall cleaning around the yard today. That meant pulling out the old clippers and cutting down the honeysuckle vines that were crawling up the side of the house. I also pulled out dead plants and tidied up the vegetable garden.
When it was all done, I went inside and washed my hands.
All clean. Or so I thought.
I little while later, I was outside talking to a friend. She looked at me and gave me a funny look. "What's in your hair?"
I ran my fingers through it and discovered a strange object. It was a honeysuckle vine with leaves still hanging on it.
"Oh yeah," I said. "It's my laurel wreath. I'm looking like a goddess today."
When it was all done, I went inside and washed my hands.
All clean. Or so I thought.
I little while later, I was outside talking to a friend. She looked at me and gave me a funny look. "What's in your hair?"
I ran my fingers through it and discovered a strange object. It was a honeysuckle vine with leaves still hanging on it.
"Oh yeah," I said. "It's my laurel wreath. I'm looking like a goddess today."
