Cool Whip - Elise's Imaginary Friend

So, last May the Rev took Elise to visit his parents for a few days, while I was still stuck at work, waiting on my summer break to begin. Because it is his favorite food group, her PaPaw let her have Cool Whip to eat every day - on pancakes, with berries, probably just straight from the spoon, too...and that was the beginning.

Not long after, she began talking about her friend, Cool Whip. She told us that she was her sister but that she lived at another house...here...in the retirement village where she had gone trick or treating with her friend, Piper, the year before. The village is on the way to the Y and we go there several times each week, so she waves to her and tells her "Hello" every time we pass.

The Rev and I have been taken to task if we forget to put Cool Whip in the bed with her each night. One evening last August, we had a particularly long trip home from church because Cool Whip kept getting out of the car and we needed to stop and let her back in...

I keep waiting for her to move on, but she'll be playing on the playground and turn to yell for Cool Whip to come with her. She'll wait for Cool Whip to climb up the slide with her and then tell her that she did a good job when she slides down.

I was a little worried at first and then I read this:

"studies had shown that kids with imaginary pals use more complex sentence structure, have richer vocabularies, and get along better with classmates. Kids who create a playmate get a chance to practice taking both sides of the conversation. They try on different roles, think abstractly, and conjure up original ideas. An elaborate fantasy world is like a test lab for some of the most important childhood skills."

I guess we won't worry if Cool Whip sticks around a little longer then... besides Cool Whip is a way better name than Bing Bong.

A Baby, A Girl, and A Sister

At about 1 year old, Elise got her first baby. A plain little doll that cost $5 at WalMart - she picked it out when she was sick and we were wandering around waiting on a prescription to be filled. As soon as she could talk and was asked the doll's name, she replied "Baby." And that is what she has always called her. She sleeps with her every night, without fail. And in extreme cases when the most severe punishment is required (usually reserved for telling a lie), she loses baby. It breaks her heart and she cries and says, "But I love her!" Baby is her girl.

(Sometimes even Baby gets a timeout..)

Baby is not all that attractive, so I bought her another, cuter, stuffed doll. Elise named her "Girl." Not one to be swayed by looks or the cuddly factor, Girl is largely relegated to the toy box. She is no Baby.

(Girl, all by herself, in the dress up trunk...)

Cue this past Christmas, when Elise asked for a sister for her baby. Specifically one with diapers. This caused mass confusion amongst church members and her teachers at school, since when anyone asked Elise what she was getting for Christmas, she replied with "A Baby Sister." Christmas morning came and there was the new baby doll, complete with diapers, who was promptly named, you guessed it, "Sister." She was Elise's jam for all of 1 week before she was forgotten in favor of Baby.

(Christmas morning with Sister)

3 lessons here:
1 - Sometimes a cheaply made WalMart doll is all you need.
2 - We will for sure need to invest in a Baby Name book when it is Elise's turn (in 30 years) to have a baby of her own!
3 - Never try to come between a girl and her baby!

Did I Miss Something?

How is it possible that I have lived to be 30-none-of-your-business years old and cannot manage to open a fruit cup without spilling the juice everywhere? I didn't take Home Economics (got stuck in Woodshop instead), is that when I missed it? Did they pull the rest of you together and teach you some sort of fruit cup opening voodoo? Am I the only one who does this? I have had to clean my rings 3 times this week to get rid of sticky, fruit cocktail juice. I might have to move up to grown up foods....

Thank the Lord for Fridays!

For Pete's Sake...

You would think after 5 years, I would be used to the way that we do things in a small town...yeah, not so much, I still get surprised every now and again.

The Rev's radiator busted earlier this week, on Tuesday to be exact, which turned out to be a good thing since apparently his "radiator guy" Pete (I didn't even know we had our own personal radiator guy...) is "Closed on Ever Monday."

I saw the sign when we dropped the truck off to be repaired and couldn't help but snap a pic. I'd also like to note that we left the truck, unlocked, with the radiator that we ordered from our mechanic friend (do you see a pattern here?), in the lot early in the morning for Pete to fix when he came in first thing. I asked the Rev if he thought that was safe, me still having a city girl mentality and all, and he let me know that Pete mentioned he has cameras...if he has cameras, and I highly doubt it since he can't spell "every" or afford real signage, I'm sure they are trained on the moonshine still that he is building, not on our truck...

Laugh All You Want...

A few years ago when I wasn't working and I was keeping Team Jacie's boy, Mater, there were some who made fun of my style. They said he was in Baby Boot Camp, complete with a regimented daily schedule. It's not the first time I've been accused of being a teensy weensy bit OCD, but I told them one day they would see what good would come from it.

Last week, while we were at the beach, B-Man and Mater came to spend the night with us one night. We went swimming and when we came home we gave each of the boys a job to do to clean up all of the water play stuff. B-Man was in charge of laying all of the towels out on the porch to dry and Mater was in charge of getting all of the wet flip flops out there. Now, they aren't matched up because the Rev called him back in while he was trying to do that, but didn't my little 2 year old Boot Camp graduate do a good job lining them all up on the door mat?

Laugh all you want, but we OCD'ers will rule the world one day!

We Were Robbed!

So, a week or so ago the Rev calls me at work and we have a conversation that goes like this:

Rev: Did you move my shoes?
Me: No, where were they? (I should note that most often if the shoes had been moved (please read: put in their proper place), I would be the culprit.)
Rev: I left them outside by the front door after I sprayed weeds last night.
Me: Who would take your shoes, but leave my phone and other stuff in the car alone?
Both: Sassy!

Yes, that is right, Sassy, the neighborhood dog, who has been hanging out on the neighbor's porch 2 doors down for a while now, stole the Rev's shoes! Upon further investigation, we realized that she actually took both of the Rev's good tennis shoes and 1 of his yard shoes--not really sure why we weren't wearing the yard shoes to spray the weeds, but anywhoo...

We've managed to locate both good shoes (1 was 3 or 4 streets over where she is supposed to live!), I'll keep you posted on whether the other shows up or not! If not, I think this look could become quite trendy...at least he has on clean socks...

I Think Goldilocks Has Been In My Fridge...

I buy these apples in the produce section that are precut and bagged up, partly because I am short on time when packing lunches and partly because I am a little afraid of the Pampered Chef Apple Slicer since I almost cut off a finger using it a while back. I am the only one in the house who eats these apples, the Rev doesn't like apples, something about texture...anywho...

I'm pretty sure that the bag hadn't been tampered with, so how do I explain this? Do you see it? What looks like a perfect set of teethmarks in a slice. Did I mention that I had already consumed 3/4 of the bag this week when I found this? The Rev swears that it must have been caused by something used to cut the apples, but I'm thinking Goldilocks has been in my fridge...

100 Calorie French Fries...(or The Day I Ate Barbie Doll Food)

I'll be the first to admit that I am not the healthiest eater, but I do try in some areas. For instance, when we go to McDonald's, 95% of the time, I get a Happy Meal. I still get some yummy goodness, a smaller portion, and a toy for either B-Man or Mater (though it does make me laugh every time the lady asks if I want a "boy toy"...).

Well, apparently (and without consulting me), they changed up the ol' Happy Meal. Now you get your meat choice, apples, and a smaller 1.1oz french fry. There are approximately 15 french fries and a mere 100 calories in 1.1 oz. The container fits in the palm of your hand (see photo, if you don't believe me). When you are finished, you can wash them down with your dixie cup sized drink.

It will probably be the only time in my life that I feel like Barbie......

Gardening 101

I feel sort of bad giving him a hard time because he is super sick with pneumonia right now, but this one is too good to pass up.....

So, you all know that the Rev is, well, a reverend, you know a pastor. He preaches about 50 sermons and teaches about the same number of Bible studies each year. Now, put somebody in charge of speaking publicly that many times in a year and a slip up is bound to occur every now and then....

This past Sunday's sermon involved an illustration about gardening. The Rev was trying to point out to our rural congregation that he was not a city boy and had in fact been raised in the country, farming and gardening. I know what he was trying to say, I know the point he was trying to make....but right in the middle of his story, he said "I've spent plenty of time with a ho(e)".......I immediately had to look at the floor because I was getting tickled, and several others were as well. He paused and I cringed hoping he wasn't going to acknowledge it, just keep going like it didn't happen, thankfully he let it pass, but we weren't even finished with service for a full minute before I busted out laughing and I wasn't alone. He has taken his fair share of ribbing about it this week, but he's a pretty good sport.

It was almost as funny as the time he was preaching about Lot, got tongue-tied and the phrase "pitching a tent" came out as pinching something that you don't want to even think about pinching in church.....I'll give you a minute on that one....

And people think church is boring......

Pull The Other Leg...

Dear Scammer,

Perhaps if you do something about that Caller ID issue, like say, getting it to identify your company as offering "Free Stuff" instead of a "Phone Scam," you might get some takers....