Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 86

Bubba Bocce Ball

It was a beautiful day here in Cincinnati.  My boy wanted to play outside.  "Mama, come play with me!"

I couldn't say "no" to the little man (even though I still have a ton of stuff to do get ready for Easter!).  "Okay, Bubba, I'll play for a little while."

We went outside and found the Bocce Ball game.  "Let's play this," Bubba said. 

If you're not familiar with the game, here's how it works:  You throw a little white ball, and then you throw some heavy colored balls and try to hit the white one.   The person who gets the closest wins the round.

We began the game.  I threw the white ball, then standing in place, I threw my red balls.  They got pretty close.  Then it was Bubba's turn.  Do you know what he did?  He walked right up to the white ball and plopped his black balls down next to it.

"Bubba,"  I said.  "That's not how you play the game.  That's cheating!"

"Sorry, Mama, I'll do it different next time."

And he did.  When it was his turn to throw the white ball, he picked it up and put it on a tree branch.  Then he positioned his black balls on branches right next to it.

I shook my head.  "Bubba, what do you call this? You're supposed to throw the ball like I did.  And it's supposed to land on the ground!"

"No, Mama," he answered.  "We're not playing regular Bocce Ball.  We're playing Bubba Bocce Ball." 

Spill King

My son seems to be having some issues today with spilling things.  This morning, I took him to my critique meeting at Panera Bread and got him a smoothie.  Somehow, half of the smoothie ended up on the floor.

"Naughty smoothie!" he said, looking at the mess on the floor and on his jacket.  I cleaned it up and took the boy and his smoothie-covered jacket home.

At lunchtime, I gave the boy some yogurt.  A short while later, he walked over to me.  "Mama, I need a paper towel."

"Why, Bubba?"

"I had a little spill."  He pointed at his shirt and pants.  They were covered in yogurt.

I had him change, and threw his dirty clothes in the wash. 

Then he drank his juice.  And guess what?  He had another little spill.

"Bubba, what seems to be the problem, today?"  I asked.

"I don't know, Mama.  Nothing wants to be eaten, and it's running away from my mouth!"

I hate when that happens!    

Poke Piano

"Bubba, it's time to practice piano," I said to my eight-year-old son.

He meandered into the room, holding his Nintendo DS.  "Okay, Mama." 

I sat down in my teaching chair next to the piano bench and waited for him to sit down. He did, but the Nintendo was still in his hands.  "Dude, you need to put that thing down now.  You can't play with it in your hands."

"Yes I can, Mama!  Watch!"  He brought up some kind of Pokemon app and took out his stylus.  Two seconds later, he was touching the screen, playing the theme from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which was part of his lesson. What's more is, he actually had to select the correct notes to play. 

I couldn't believe it. Poke piano.  Now I'm never going to get that kid unglued from his DS!   

Busy Man

First of all, I'm going to explain the blog blitz thing that has been sitting on my side bar.  I know you're all just dying to know what it is!  DL Hammons   came up with this really cool idea to "blitz" one lucky blogger once a week.  What the heck does that mean?  It means that on the chosen day, all bloggers who are on the blog blitz list will visit that special person and leave a comment on that person's most recent post.  That's potentially hundreds of comments.  Pretty cool, huh?  Everyone on the list will have a chance to be blitzed.  If you want to participate, hop over to DL Hammons' blog and sign up!  

Today's lucky person is PK Hrezo, so stop by and leave her a comment!



Okay.  Now for the story.

"Mama," my eight year old son said.  "I'm really busy at night."

I tried  to surpress a laugh.  "Oh yeah? Doing what?"

"Well, I roll up my pajama pant legs.  And then I knock my blankets off.  But I wish I wouldn't do that, because I like my blankets on the bed."

I nodded.  "Uh, huh.  Anything else?"

"Yeah.  I talk and sometimes I get up and walk around."

"While you're asleep?" 

"No. While I'm half asleep." 

I looked at that boy. "Why don't you just stay in bed and be totally sleep?"

"Because sleep is boring!"

  

Cracking Eggs

When I woke up from my nap on Saturday, I was hit with the realization that I had a lot of cooking to do.  Passover dinner was to be at my house the next day.  And I hadn't even started. (If you have no idea about how extensive Passover dinners are, let me just say, it's basically a twenty course meal.)

I began with the hard boiled eggs - fifteen of them.  After they were cooked, I cracked and peeled off the shells, one at a time.  Not fun! 

My eight year old son wandered into the kitchen.  He stood next to me and watched me intently.  "Mama, that's not how you do it," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Watch and learn, Mama."  He grabbed the bowl of eggs.  And then do you know what he did?  He dumped them on the floor!

I stared at him, speechless.

He grinned.  "See Mama, now they're all cracked!"

And then he walked off, leaving me to clean up the mess on the floor.

Oy gewalt!

Stuck Necklace

My daughter had another dance competition today. (She did well -another double platinum rating.)  We had to get up at the crack of dawn to be there for an early performance.  Unfortunately, the hotel we stayed at was rather noisy.  Neither of us slept much.  Needless to say, it wasn't easy to get the hair and makeup done!  Since I had all kinds of issues with that, my daughter insisted on putting her choker rhinestone neckace on herself. 

"Fine," I said.  "My eyes are probably to bleary to see the clasp, anyway."

She got it on no problem.  But when we got home, and she tried to take it off, it wouldn't budge.  "Mom, it's stuck!  Can you you get it off?"

I took a look at it.  It was a hopeless cause.  I'm not sure how she did it, but the latch is permanently stuck on one of the links.  "I can't figure this out," I said.  "Just take a shower and leave the thing on.  I'll look at it again, later." That's what she did.

So ladies and gentlemen, does anybody who isn't as sleep-deprived as me have any suggestions?  I really don't want to destroy the thing.  Her next competition is in a couple of weeks, and I'm afraid a replacement won't come in on time.  Here's my idea:  I'm going to go take a little nap.  Maybe the answer will come to me in a dream. If you have a better plan, let me know! 

Good night!

Impressing the Lady

Spring is in the air and it seems to have affected Schultz, our hundred pound German Shepherd.

I took the beast for a walk today.  Half-way through our walk, he spotted a female German Shepherd.  (I think she was an old lady, but that didn't seem to matter to Schultz.)  She was standing in her driveway, watching us. 

Schultz decided to see what he could do to impress the lady.  He did his fancy prance in front of her. And he gawked.  He couldn't take his eyes off of her.  Then he got to the next driveway.  Since he was so busy prancing and gawking, he didn't notice that it was slippery asphalt.  He slipped and fell flat on his face.

"Schultz, you moron," I said.  "That's no way to impress a lady!"

So what did he do?  He got up, took a potty break on the lawn, and kept prancing.

What a man!

April Fools

Yesterday, as I was teaching a violin lesson, a five and a half foot tall creature meandered into the room.  It looked like Pikachu.  It stared at me and then wandered off.  A few minutes later, a three-foot tall Luigi walked in.  It paused for a few seconds, and then like the Pikachu, wandered off.  I wondered what these creatures were doing in my house.

Five minutes later, they reappeared, this time with orange jack-o-lanterns in their hands.  The Pikachu spoke.  "We're going trick-or-treating."  I recognized that voice.  It belonged to one of my offspring. The female one.

"Excuse me," I said.  "It's not Halloween. I think you're a little confused."

"We're not confused." the Luigi said.  "We're playing an April Fools joke."

I looked at that boy.  "It's not April Fools, either."

"That's the point," my daughter said.  "We're going to mess with everyone's heads.  They won't know if it's Halloween, April Fools, or just the first day of Spring!" 




Before I go, I just have to share some exciting news with you.  My book, That Mama is a Grouch, is a 2013 Mom's Choice Award silver recipient!    (And that's no joke!)

Fork Fight

Last night, when I went over to the piano to start practicing, I noticed that there was a pile of forks sitting on top.  There must've been at least twenty of them - every fork in the house.

"Kids," I called.  "Who put the forks on the piano?"

"Bubba did," my daughter said.

"I did not!" Bubba retorted.

Hmmm.  Something suspicious was going on here.  I walked over to my husband who was saving the galaxy on his computer.  "Did you put the forks on the piano?"

No answer.  He must've been engrossed in a big battle.

I knew I had to do a little detective work.

"Now why would somebody put forks on top of a piano?" I asked my son.

"Probably to get them away from Daddy." 

"Why would you need to get them away from Daddy?"

"I didn't need to, but my sister did.  Daddy was chasing her around trying to poke her with a fork."

I walked over to my daughter.  "Was Daddy chasing you with a fork?"

"Yeah.  He tried to stab me in the tush!" 

Whoa.  "Why?"  I asked.

"Maybe because I was being obnoxious."

Oh.  "So you were the one who put the forks on the piano."

My daughter looked down at her feet.  "Yes."

I'm such a good detective!  Now I have to figure out what to do with the Daddy.  Maybe I should lock him in the crate with our German Shepherd, Schultz!

Lightening Eyeballs and Other Mayhem

I watched my eight-year-old son sitting at the kitchen table.  He had a flashlight, and was taking it apart.  After he had dismembered it, he turned it on and shined it into his eyes. (He did have a part in front, partially blocking the stream of light.)

"Bubba, what are you doing?" I asked.

"Lightening my eyeballs."

"Excuse me?" I said.

"I want to see what I look like with lighter eyeballs."

All I could do was shake my head.

Meanwhile, my daughter who was sitting on the barstool sipping Sprite, thought that was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard.  She promptly spit out her Sprite - all over my manuscripts which were to be mailed to agents. 

"What the heck?"  I bellowed.

My daughter could not stop laughing.  Sprite came out her nose and dripped onto my manuscripts. 

"This cannot be for real," I said.

"Don't worry Mom,"  my daughter said.  "The agents will still take them.  They're children's books.  A little sticky Sprite is to be expected!"

Argh!