Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 64

Bubba's Milkshake

Bubba was in the kitchen, again.  (And no, it wasn't with his helicopter!)

"Mama, I'm going to make a milkshake!"

I looked at the kid.  "Do you know how?"

"Of course, Mama.  It's easy!"

I let him go to town on it.  He pulled out the blender.  Then he grabbed some moose tracks ice cream, blueberry yogurt, ice cubes, milk, and...orange juice.

"Bubba, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes, Mama.  I watch you do this all the time!"  He dumped it all into the blender and pressed the "blend" button.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, watching this most interesting spectacle.

When he was finished, he got a glass and poured his concoction in.  He took a swig.  He wrinkled up his nose.  "Mama, I think you bought a bad batch of yogurt.  This doesn't taste right!"

Of course.  Blame it on the Mama!  

Moonless Book Release and Whipped Potatoes

My blog friend, Crystal Collier's book, Moonless, has just been released as a hard copy book.  I'm helping to spread the word.  It's a really good book.  If you haven't read it, check it out!




BUY IT HERE

Also, Crystal's publisher provided a $2.00 off coupon, good until Feb. 14th!Book link: https://www.createspace.com/4550104
Coupon code: LQJM3F84
And now for the story:

My son was playing with his remote control helicopter.  "Mama, check out how good I can pilot this thing!"

I watched him soar it around the room, landing it on the coffee table.  "Nice job!" I said.

While he played, I put out the dinner:  Pork chops, green beans, and mashed potatoes.  I turned around and was about to take out the rolls from the oven, when I heard a funny sound.  I looked over my shoulder to see what it could be.  And do you know what I saw?  A tiny helicopter sitting in the middle of the mashed potatoes, with its propeller spinning.

"Dude!" I exclaimed.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"Whipping the potatoes!"

Oy!  

The Moron Test

"Mom," my twelve-year-old daughter said.  "Do you want to take the moron test?"

I tried not to laugh.  "I don't think I need to take the moron test.  We already know I'm one of those."

She handed her iPod to me.  "Take it anyway."

I looked at the screen.  "What am I supposed to do?"

"Follow the instructions.  If you can't do that, you're a moron."

I suppressed a giggle and read the first instruction:  Press the red button.

I did. Somehow I managed to do that correctly.

I was then given a series of tasks to complete - ordering the sizes of ducks from biggest to smallest, tapping colored circles, and adding numbers.  Progressing through these tasks successfully, I was given the rank "average mammal."  It was time for the next level.

"Tap the screen five times," it said.

I did.  The iPod did nothing.  "What's the problem?" I asked.

My daughter took the device from my hands.  "You're supposed to tap it five times."

"I did," I said.  "But it's stuck here."

She tapped it one more time.

"FAIL!" the screen blared.

My daughter threw the iPod on her bed. "Moron!" she shouted at it.  "That's the dumbest test ever!"

Carbon Dioxide Balloons

Last night, when I was playing Frisbee with my son, I noticed a red balloon on the ground under one of the bushes.  I figured my kids had something to do with it being there.

"Dude," I said.  "Why is there a balloon under the bush?"

"We did an experiment, Mama."

"An experiment?"  I couldn't wait to hear about this one.

"Yeah.  We made carbon dioxide balloons and released them into the wild."

I raised my eyebrows.  "Is that so?"

He nodded. "Do you want to see how?"

"Sure," I said.  We went inside. He took a pop bottle, filled it with water, then added baking soda and vinegar.  He quickly attached the balloon to the bottle.  What happened next, was that the balloon expanded.  He took it off the bottle, keeping the neck of the balloon closed so the air wouldn't escape.  Then he marched outside and released it.  The balloon zoomed through the air and landed under another bush.

"Very nice," I said.  "Now you can march around the house and clean up all the balloons you have released into the wild!"

(If you'd like to do the experiment, you can find the instructions here.)



One more thing before I go:

 Here's a shout-out for  Alex's promotion

 CassaFire is on sale from 4-10th February. 
...delivers on the promise of its predecessor, combining military action sequences and political intrigue with strong, memorable characters. Reminiscent of the action-driven stories of Robert A. Heinlein's early fiction…” - Library JournalAlex J. Cavanaugh’s CassaFire just .99 for a limited time! 
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The Hypnosis Stone

My son had a school field trip yesterday, where he got to "mine" gemstones and learn about them.  He came home with a bag full of assorted blue, green, red, and purple gems. He dumped them out on the kitchen table.  "Mama, which is your favorite?"

I took a look and picked up an aqua-colored stone.  "This one."

"Do you know which one is my favorite?"

"No, Bubba.  Which one is your favorite?"

He picked up a topaz-colored rock with brown stripes.  "Take a look at this one."  He held it in front of my face and slowly moved it across my line of vision. The stone was like a holographic image. As he moved it, the pattern on the surface of the stone seemed to change. "It's a tiger's eye," he explained. "Do you know why I like it?"

"Because it's fancy?" I asked.

He nodded.  "And because I can use it to hypnotize you!"  

Bubbles!

It's official.  I've completely lost my mind!  But you probably already knew that.

Here's the Mama's dumb move of the day:

I started the dishwasher this morning, as I usually do.  Everything seemed to go as it usually does.  Except about ten minutes later, I noticed bubbles coming out of the sides of the dishwasher.

Hmmm,I thought. What's wrong here?

I stared at the bubbles as they got bigger and bigger and oozed out onto the floor.

Then it dawned on me.  I had put Dawn liquid soap in the detergent containers, instead of dishwasher detergent!

I quickly stopped the machine and opened it up.  You don't even want to know what it looked like!  I muttered a few choice words and commenced bubble-popping operations.

An hour later it was cleaned up - but I seriously think I should be institutionalized before I cause the entire house to fall down!  

Guest Blog Post and Foot Letters

Today, I'm in two places at once.  Okay.  Not really.  But I am a guest over at Jodi Desautel's blog.  If you have a moment, please stop by for a visit!

Now for the story:

Last night, when I was tucking my nine-year-old son into bed, I noticed he seemed to be having a fixation with his feet.

"Dude," I said.  "Why are you playing with your feet?  It's time for bed!"

"Mama, there something really interesting going on here."

I raised my eyebrows.  "Apparently. What is so interesting about your feet?"

"There are letters on them.  Look, Mama."  He traced some lines on the sole of his foot.  "This is the letter 'A.' Do you have a letter 'A' on your foot?"

"You seriously want me to take my sock off and see if I have a letter 'A' on the bottom of my foot?"

"Yes, Mama!"

I sighed and inspected the bottom of my foot.  Sure enough, there was a letter "A" on the bottom.  "Are you happy, Bubba?"

He shook his head.  "Look.  Here's a letter 'M.' Do you have a letter 'M'?"

I looked.  I did.  "Yes, Bubba.  I have a letter 'M.'"

"Mama, do you know what that means?"

"No, Bubba, I don't."

"It means we're related!"

Imagine that!

Out of Energy

My nine-year-old son bought himself an electric scooter a couple of days ago.  He'd been asking for one for a couple of years.  I finally told him he could have one if he bought it with his own money.  That's what he did.

We brought it home and I put it together.  He hopped on and started scooting up the street.  If you are unfamiliar with electric scooters, they look like regular scooters you push with your feet, but they are much heavier.  Normally, you start them by pushing with your feet, until they reach a speed of 5 miles per hour, and then the electric part kicks in, and you can just stand on it and let the scooter go by itself.  Eventually, they run out of power, and need to be recharged.

Anyway, my son scooted up and down the hills of our neighborhood.  I followed.  When we were a considerable way from home, the scooter conked out.  My son had to use old fashioned leg power to scoot up and down the hills.  This was apparently exhausting.

"Mama," he complained.  "You have to stop, because me and this scooter have something in common."

"What's that, Bubba?"

"We're out of power, and can't go another inch!"  

Frozen Bubbles

Due to the snowfall in Atlanta, Georgia, my kids have been out of school all week.  It's pathetic, really, but we're just going with the flow.

To keep themselves busy, my kids have devised an interesting game.  It's the "blow bubbles, watch them freeze, and pop" game.

Here's how it works:  You go outside in sub-freezing temperatures with a bubble wand and bubble solution.  You blow a bubble and let it sit on the wand.  Ice crystals form, hardening the bubble.  And then the bubble pops.  Loudly!

My kids amused themselves for at least an hour doing this.

If you ever find yourself bored in an Arctic blast, you may want to give it a try. Here's what it looks like:

The Immortal Snowball

If you live in the United States, you may have heard that the fine city of Atlanta, Georgia, where I live, was crippled by a grand total of two inches of snow.  Pathetic!  I've never seen anything like it.  (I recently moved to Atlanta from Ohio.  I'm a native of Cleveland, Ohio, so I'm no stranger to snow!)  Many kids were stuck in schools overnight because they couldn't get home. Fortunately, my kids weren't one of them, but my daughter's bus never arrived until 7:00 PM.   People were stranded on highways because of the ice. Somebody actually delivered a baby in a car while they were stranded.

Anyway, the kids thought it was the greatest thing to have snow.  They pulled out Rubbermaid container lids and sledded down the icy street slopes.  They tried to build a snowman, but there just wasn't enough snow.  So they had snowball fights.

When they were done, they came inside.  My son had a rather substantial snowball in his hands.  He put it into the freezer.

"Dude," I said.  "Why did you just put a snow pile in our freezer?"

"Mama, we might not ever get snow again.  I want to make sure this snow lasts forever!"