Sigh. I knew when I posted that picture that the shirt wasn’t going to go unnoticed. All my protestations that I’m not a huge Twilight fangirl, and then I post a picture of me wearing a shirt that says, “Twilight...Only a vampire can love you forever.” I have two things to say about the shirt: 1) it was a birthday present from my Twilight-obsessed bff Mela, and 2) I wear it because it makes Chris laugh (and while I’m pretty sure he’s laughing at me and not with me, I like to pretend otherwise.) The girls have decided that it means Chris must be a vampire, because Mom could never even dream of anyone else! Too bad he doesn’t sparkle.
A recent conversation, which took place the day after Chris brought home the eight unclaimed boxes of Girl Scout cookies from his office:
-Ellie: Dad, you had too many cookies, so I ate some, and now you just have two!
-Dad: How many did you eat?
-E: A whoooooooole bunch!
-D: And I just get two? Do you think that’s fair?
-E: Yep! And you know what? You’re gonna share them with ME!
3+2=5. But 3 little girls + 2 more little girls = chaos worthy of 50 little girls.
We’re learning lots of lessons about the power of advertising these days, thanks to our good friend Qubo. In order to illustrate how the amazing Ab Roller might not be quite as effective as they’d have you think, I had to do a demonstration of how the same person can look skinny and fat. After I did it, Lexi said, “You look weird skinny. Do the fat again!” Thanks, sweetie.
I just figured out how to do a hyperlink in a comment. There is no charge for awesomeness (or attractiveness.)
I like my banner/header thing big. But I think it looks kinda funny and I haven’t quite figured out why yet. But I’m getting bored with my blog template and may have to start creating something new. With all my free time.
Yesterday some friends taught Vicki and me how to play a game called Farkle. And they were asking what card games we play, and I realized I cannot remember how to play Pounce. I still have all my cards, and fond memories of playing in the stairwell of the York Youth Hostel, but for the life of me I can’t remember the rules. I’m a disgrace to the name of Youngberg, quite possibly. This must be remedied.
Just a word of advice: when the 3-year-old says, “I can be so self-reliant!” don’t take her word for it. And don’t let her get a full pitcher of juice out of the fridge by herself. Unless you want to spend the next half hour bathing children and scrubbing juice off of unlikely surfaces, that is.