Longer than a Tweet, Shorter than a Blog Post

The children were mercifully happy all throughout our errand running today. Why? Because they found the slender remote control that operates the now defunct portable DVD player, and then spent all of our drive time "changing the channel" to watch their favorite shows. They expressed surprise and shock when one bad guy cut off another bad guy's head, sang along with the theme songs, and took turns telling each other what numbers to press to get the channel they wanted. "099, that's CBC Kids," said Son, "and 422, that's Dora. And 61584712, that's the Weather." They paused their shows when we got out of the car.

Yes, it's true. My children were blissfully happy controlling an INVISIBLE television set in the back of the car for the duration of our errands. Try it sometime. I guarantee you peace and quiet and harmony in the back seat.

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We cook a lot together as a family. Yesterday, Daughter invented her first recipe. Without further ado, I give you her "Soup with Noodles and Bread."

2 cups sugar
1 cup sesame (don't bother asking sesame what? Daughter says, "it's just sesame")
2 cups broccoli
2 strips bacon
4 strips "bacon" powder (it was the use of "strips" as a measurement that clued me in to how she hears the phrase "Baking powder")
3 cups flour
4 cheese (no unit provided)
4 cups nutmeg
5 cups bacon soup

There are no directions provided for assembly. But don't the ingredients sound just maaahhhhvelous?

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How many bowls of chicken and stars soup will two children spill during one lunch hour? Three. I know 1 + 2 = 3, but somehow that doesn't seem like the right equation here.

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How long will it take you to get a headache if you move the spray-painted cardboard box from the snow-covered driveway into the laundry-room to dry? 5 minutes. Max. And the headache will be serious.

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"Can I see your i.d.?" the self-checker-outer-helper-lady asked me at Home Depot.

"My i.d.?" I was mystified.

"For that" she said, looking sternly at the can of spray paint in my hands. "Are you over eighteen?" Her look began to soften only slightly as she eyed the nearly-six year-old and three-year-old who accompanied me.

"Oh, THANK YOU," I responded with heartfelt enthusiasm. "I'm turning forty soon." I didn't add that back when I was under-eighteen, there were no laws restricting who could buy spray paint.

The men in professional overalls in front of me looked back and smiled.

What was the favorite part of my day? Hands down: getting carded while buying a can of black spray paint for my son's solar system project.