I think I might have to use a flamethrower to get rid of these cobwebs. Not only is it quick but it's also very cool-looking. Has it really been a week since I last posted. Oh, for shame!
We could use anything cool right now as it has been a kazillion freaking degrees in the Ottawa area. Most of my days post-Good-Grandma-funeral have been spent recovering from pneumonia (which took a little longer because I didn't take it as easy as I should have. Shocking.) and attempting to find the coolest, least humid solution to the hot weather. We erected a series of fans (yes, I said "erected" and yes, I'm giggling) to blow (teehee) the air from the one little air conditioner around the rest of the house. It sort of worked. It was hard but we pulled it off (snicker).
While I was busy with everything else, Spawnling joined a gang. He kept it a secret until last night, when out of the blue he started shouting "South Side! South Side!"
When we lived in another, less interesting part of the Capital Region suburban sprawl there was a group of delinquent youth who called themselves the West Side Crew. They did horrible things like spray paint highway overpasses with pictures of cannabis that they undoubtedly smoked a lot of while having unprotected sex. I think I once saw one kick a kitten, too. They were a bad bunch, the West Side Crew.
And now my baby boy was branching off and forming a new posse. Frightening.
I should have seen the signs. Spawnling took a liking to a yellow shirt and refused to take it off for two days. Gang colours. Check.
Next he started saying "no" more often and even pushed me a couple of times. Defying authority. Check.
When we were outside hanging the laundry he stuffed a couple of clothespins in his pocket and walked into another part of the yard. Weapons stash. Check.
And finally, when I was holding a baby today, he tried to make me nurse the newborn. "Try a sample of my product, kid. If you like it here's my cell number." Check.
When he began to yell "South Side!" I knew it was time for an intervention. My child was headed down the wrong path at such a young age; a sure sign of the daily neglect he faces as the youngest of three boys. Couple that with the noticeable difference of his left-handedness and the slippery slope is steepened.
"South Side! South Side!" declared Spawnling.
"We live on the north side, Spawn. You should at least call it the North Side Crew. Get your directions right."
"South Siiiiiiiide!!!" Hollered the Spawn.
"What are you trying to say? I don't understand."
Intrepid walked into the kitchen to get a drink. "South Side!"
Intrepid replied with: "Oh, you want to go outside, buddy? Ok. I'll take you right after I get some water."
"Yeah!" declared the former gangster.
Outside? Oh. Hmm. I guess he could mean that, too.
We could use anything cool right now as it has been a kazillion freaking degrees in the Ottawa area. Most of my days post-Good-Grandma-funeral have been spent recovering from pneumonia (which took a little longer because I didn't take it as easy as I should have. Shocking.) and attempting to find the coolest, least humid solution to the hot weather. We erected a series of fans (yes, I said "erected" and yes, I'm giggling) to blow (teehee) the air from the one little air conditioner around the rest of the house. It sort of worked. It was hard but we pulled it off (snicker).
While I was busy with everything else, Spawnling joined a gang. He kept it a secret until last night, when out of the blue he started shouting "South Side! South Side!"
When we lived in another, less interesting part of the Capital Region suburban sprawl there was a group of delinquent youth who called themselves the West Side Crew. They did horrible things like spray paint highway overpasses with pictures of cannabis that they undoubtedly smoked a lot of while having unprotected sex. I think I once saw one kick a kitten, too. They were a bad bunch, the West Side Crew.
And now my baby boy was branching off and forming a new posse. Frightening.
I should have seen the signs. Spawnling took a liking to a yellow shirt and refused to take it off for two days. Gang colours. Check.
Next he started saying "no" more often and even pushed me a couple of times. Defying authority. Check.
When we were outside hanging the laundry he stuffed a couple of clothespins in his pocket and walked into another part of the yard. Weapons stash. Check.
And finally, when I was holding a baby today, he tried to make me nurse the newborn. "Try a sample of my product, kid. If you like it here's my cell number." Check.
When he began to yell "South Side!" I knew it was time for an intervention. My child was headed down the wrong path at such a young age; a sure sign of the daily neglect he faces as the youngest of three boys. Couple that with the noticeable difference of his left-handedness and the slippery slope is steepened.
"South Side! South Side!" declared Spawnling.
"We live on the north side, Spawn. You should at least call it the North Side Crew. Get your directions right."
"South Siiiiiiiide!!!" Hollered the Spawn.
"What are you trying to say? I don't understand."
Intrepid walked into the kitchen to get a drink. "South Side!"
Intrepid replied with: "Oh, you want to go outside, buddy? Ok. I'll take you right after I get some water."
"Yeah!" declared the former gangster.
Outside? Oh. Hmm. I guess he could mean that, too.