Little House on the Prairie. Laura Ingalls Wilder lived here. This is going to be great!
This sod house is awesome. Wait, is it my nap time? ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Saddle up the horses Pa, ZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Post Office, Little House on the Prairie. This is when they came and told us that the area was under a Tornado Watch and that we should leave. No, no, no. We are not taking naps and we are not leaving the premises.
I ordered Jack a pillowcase for his room. It was supposed to be a print of an owl. The universe had other plans. I was excited to open it when it arrived, and disappointed to see that instead of an owl I had a pillowcase screaming at me to, "GO TO THE GYM!"
I felt verbally assaulted by this pillowcase. I'd like to meet the person who actually ordered this pillowcase and wanted to display it in their home. No I wouldn't. We wouldn't be friends.
The owl pillow eventually arrived and all was right with the world, no gym visits required.
A few weeks ago, Jack noticed the spine of one of the largest books on our shelf. Shakespeare's Complete Works (that's what I'm calling it), which has moved from house to house, but has remained unread since high school. On the spine is a large picture of Shakespeare. Jack pondered who this man was, saying, "Who dat?" and pointing. I explained that the man was named Shakespeare and that he was a writer. He returned to the book multiple times to stare at the picture.
Fast forward a week, to a day when I'd had enough toddler disobedience, to a day when I blurted out, "Do I need to call Shakespeare?" The behavior immediately stopped. Christmas trees stopped shaking, cats were freed from choke holds, the 500-piece wolf puzzle stopped raining down from the sky.
Calm was restored and the toddler was listening, all thanks to the one and only Shakespeare. I used the Shakespeare threat liberally over the next few days. Won't take your nap? That's a Shakespeare call. Don't want to change your diaper? Shakespeare told me he was on his way over.
The threat is slowly losing its force. Maybe because Shakespeare hasn't actually shown up. We've considered costume rental. Now when I say I'm going to call Shakespeare, Jack says, "Call him." That's okay, nothing lasts forever, but for one brief shining moment I was, and Shakespere was, in control.
I used to be a cake decorator. Okay, it was at Dairy Queen, but it still counts. I made this cake yesterday for James' birthday. It is a two layer cake. Yes, there are two very thin layers there. They are crumbled and shaped back together. I've learned two things from this endeavor. One, don't buy cheap candles. Two, don't ever cook/bake again.
I've been listing to "Royals" by Lorde on repeat for the last half hour. The song has helped me realize that if I ever become uber wealthy I will become one of those people that buys themselves a tiger.
It will start out lovely. The tiger will be a cub and I will shun all human contact and just spend time with my awesome tiger. I'll buy him a gold leash and a diamond collar, and we will walk through the neighborhood. I'll feed him small, ugly dogs.
My tiger will grow strong and beautiful. As he approaches adolescence, I'll realize that I'm growing bored with him. As tigers go, he's fine, but just UGH, taking care of a tiger is a lot of work. The relationship will be strained. My tiger will feel the tension, and he'll begin to think about eating me.
I'll let him think about it for a few weeks. I'll let him plan his attack--pouncing on me when my back is turned, and dragging me, by the neck, back to his gold basket.
When I'm positive that his plan is in place, I'll take him by his gold leash and lead him into the library. I'll show him what became of the other boring tigers. Then I'll use my gold steam roller to make him into a flat tiger rug.
Jack and I set out to make a batch of homemade Play-Doh. This was our first attempt. It was supposed to be blue. It turned out green and greasy. The greasy part came from using olive oil and not using a measuring cup. The green part will remain a mystery. We managed to play with the dough twice before it turned into snot and had to be sacrificed.