The girlies came running inside yesterday yelling "MOM! Jo Jo is blue! Jo Jo is blue! Somebody painted Jo Jo blue!"
Well, since I haven't seen any Smurfs since the early eighties, I figured that probably the kids had had too much Easter candy and the sugar was messing with their vision.
I went outside and sure enough, the cat was blue. Immediately when I saw her I thought-shouted What kind of sicko freak would spray paint a cat?!
Then it quickly dawned on me that the dumb butt cat had rolled her gelatinous body all over Stinkerbell's chalk drawn hopscotch on the sidewalk. She was in loooooooove with that sidewalk chalked hopscotch.
And now she is permanently stained, cannot get it off, blueberry blue. Hence, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I took her picture and promptly bestowed her with a regal name of which she so laughably does not fit--Blue Thunder.
It must be said sort of tongue-in-cheek. Like, ha ha, in your dreams Tom Cruise. You are so not all that that you think you are.
Whoops. I just let one of my movie star peeves out in the open.
Anyway, I do not loathe my cat as I loathe Tom Cruise, but I am a little irritated with her. Any normal cat would have tongue-bathed all that blue off by now, but Jo Jo seems to care less.
Changing the subject, our Easter Bunny messed up again. Yet another Easter we have been woken up by our kids, looking at us with their sad eyes, inquiring "Why didn't the Easter Bunny hide our eggs?"
"What?!!! What the?!!! WHAAAAAT?!!! What time is it?! Go back to bed! You're not even awake! It's a dream! It's too early! If you don't go to bed the Easter Bunny WON'T COME!"
Yes, my kids pretty much accept the fact that by all appearances their mother is crazy. We're all pretty comfortable with it.
Yeah, so anyway, Zoe Bug is more gullible than I am, and she so desperately clings to the magic of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny. All the while, Stinkerbell, who is almost two years younger than Zoe, stands next to her rolling her eyes and saying "It's not reeeeeeaaaaal. It's Mom and Daaaaaad. Don't you knoooooooo-ow?"
"No it's not, Anni-KA! If you don't believe, he/she/it won't come! You have to believe!"
That Stinker Dink. You can't get anything by her.
The girls left the room as per my freaking out instructions, and they holed up in their room until a more reasonable hour--not 6:30. I calmly called them into our bedroom to straighten the mess out.
"Yeah. So, we talked to the big EB last night, and he asked us if we could hide the eggs for him. He has too much to do and he needs help, so we're going to hide the eggs for you after you get dressed."
Zoe totally bought it. Stinkerbell just looked at us sideways and humphed. I think she's a little suspicious.
Which brings me to my next completely unrelated topic . . . butter. Can you believe what this kid has done to her French Toast?
Here, let me give you a closer look. I think she put a half a stick of butter on that. Before I stopped to take this picture, I had a little freak out fit. Thank goodness I caught this disaster before The Stink had time to eat it. I was very dramatic in my scoldings.
"You cannot eat that much butter. This will go straight to your bloodstream and stop your heart like a freight train. Do you know what that means?!!!! It means it will kill you! I know butter is yummy, but you cannot eat it like this!" Blah, blah, blah. I said a bunch of other stuff, but I've blacked it all out. I think she got the message.
So, did any of your kids eat so much candy yesterday that it caused them to vomit violently? Zoe Bug holds the Easter Candy Purge title in this house. It's not a title anyone is trying to beat though. Just because we're Tough Love Parents, we asked her "Was it as good coming back up as it was going down?"
Ha, ha. I just know we're going to win the Parent of the Year trophy. Bring it.