Skip to main content

You mean...?

After picking up pizza for dinner, we drove by a Taco Bell, which inspired this conversation:

Mallory: I'm glad we're eating pizza instead of Taco Bell. Gross.

Phoebe: Well Daddy likes Taco Bell.

Me: I don't think he does. He'll eat there, but it's not his favorite.

Phoebe: Do you like it?

Me: No, not really. There was a restaurant like it in Texas, though, called Taco Villa. They had apple burritos which were very good.

Mallory: Mommy, stop trying to make me think that Texas is some kind of wonderland.

Me: Pardon?

Mallory: I mean, I do like going to Texas, but you know I hate to fly, so why bring it up?

Me: Well --

Mallory: Next Christmas can we drive to Grandmom's house?

Me: No.

Phoebe: It would take forever! Plus there's that lake, you know.

Mallory: What lake?

Phoebe: That lake. You know. That big lake. We saw it last year on the way to Great Wolf Lodge.

Me: You mean the Mississippi River?

Phoebe: Yeah, that.

Mallory: But that's a river. There's not a big lake. I mean, not a lake that's too big to cross over in a car, right, Mommy? There's not a really big lake like the one that's at the beach, right?

Me: You mean the ocean?

Mallory: Yeah, the ocean. There's no ocean on the way to Texas, right?

Me: No, of course not.

Phoebe: But there is the Mississippi Lake!

Mallory: Yeah, but you can drive across that on one of those things. You know, a road track trail thing.

Me: You mean a bridge?

Mallory: No, of course I don't mean a bridge. Bridges are made of wood.

Phoebe: The pizza smells so good, I wish I could eat it right now. I wish I could eat pizza all the time.

Mallory: I wish I had pizza shoes.

Phoebe: Ewww! A pizza hat would be better.

Mallory: Ewww! What if your hair was dirty?

Phoebe: Okay, the best would be pizza mins.

Mallory: Mins? What's a mins?

Phoebe: Mins. Mih. Ens. That you wear on your hands.

Mallory: What do you mean, mins?

Me: You mean mittens?

Phoebe: Yes! That's what I mean.

Comments

aimee said…
I love it! Min. Ens. Duh! lol!

And keep trying to make Texas a wonderland, sis. We want you to come! :)

Popular posts from this blog

I ask you

This is my garden: Or rather, this is the patch of soil that was my garden last summer. It produced millions of tomatoes, dozens of green peppers, a handful of cucumbers, and two puny watermelons. I do not wish to repeat last summer's vegetable bounty, because most of said bounty went to waste. Nor, however, do I want this patch of soil to remain brown and bare throughout the summer, because it's unattractive. So, what do I plant here, in the shrubbery/flowery vein? Keep in mind that I do not have a green thumb. Also, I don't want to spend a lot of money. Also, this area is in full sun most of the day. And it's really hot. And sometimes we get rabbits. Any advice? To thank you in advance, I give you these goofy photos of my children and their homemade parfaits (which Mallory persisted in calling "specialinis").

the closet

Amy has challenged me to list 8 things that are hidden in the back of my closet. I try not to actually look to closely at the back of my closet, so these are my closest guesses: 1. At least three no-longer-needed diaper bags. 2. An outfit that I've been meaning to return to Land's End for at least six months now. 3. One of our wedding pictures, which has a broken frame which I keep meaning to replace. 4. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes. 5. Possibly a pair of fuzzy slippers. I miss those fuzzy slippers. Maybe I should brave the mess and go try to find them. 6. Baby blankets. 7. A few small toys that I meant to stick in the girls' Christmas stockings. Maybe next year. 8. And I'm guessing, a bunch of mismatched socks. My closet isn't very interesting, I'm afraid.

It's what's for dinner

One of the things that I failed to appreciate about my mom until I left home is that she always made dinner (although I think we called it supper then), by which I mean, something hot, usually involving a vegetable. I don't remember my mom ever saying sheepishly to her hungry spouse and offspring, "I don't feel like cooking, how about a bowl of cereal?" I hate making dinner. Haaate it. It's my least favorite chore. It's not necessarily because I can't cook. I can usually manage to create something edible, although I have yet to perfect the science of getting, say, the chicken and the broccoli and the rice and the rolls all ready at the same time. (There are those among you who may be surprised that I make and serve broccoli. It's true! It's best when roasted: Toss with olive oil and salt, spread on a baking sheet, put in 400 degree oven for about 8 minutes. It's delicious! Delicious as broccoli can be, at least.) It's also not necessarily t...