My Mom . . . . by Macy

Macy filled out this loving paper all about her mom:

My mom likes to watch wipeout for fun.
She is good at dealing with Reily.
Her favorite food is pizza.
My mom always says, "I'M TAKING A NAP!"
My mom teaches me how to hit Otto with a shoe.
My mom and I always clean.
Mom helps me when I need it.
(Payton's answer was, "When there is no other possible option")
Mom enjoys cuddleing.
We like to cuddle together.
I love her because she is a a loving mother.

Nice.
7/10.
And she ate my chocolate.

the goodest bike rider EVER!!

I love her....even if she claims I don't play with her!

Kharma

Now I would like to believe that a loving mother would not rejoice in the cosmic power of Kharma in relation to her darling little 5 year old; but, I did.

While I was warming a brownie remnant for Rei, she grabbed my Route 44 nectar of life. I kindly (with more sharpness than was likely necessary) told her to put the soda down.

[ Insert Onomatopoeia... (Yes, I spelled it correctly the first time.)A
ll 44 of those glorious ounces and equally glorious pebbles of ice ALL OVER the floor.

crudcakes.

I wiped, mopped, swept, mopped my sticky love off the floor.

crudcakes.

That's ok. Her brownie was cooking the entire time.

[ Insert MWAHAHAHAHAHA! ]

Smokily solidified to the bottom of the bowl. Kitchen smoking.

Kharma.

Don't mess.

Christmas

Reily-isms

Reily is a fun girl. Since I last blogged, she turned 5!! (I know ...5?! It's crazy!)

She does a lot of talking,

a lot of cartwheeling,

a lot of handstands,

and a lot more talking.

All day.

Every day.

That's just about it.

Today she wanted to walk the track at the YMCA. Every lap she would stop at the electrical outlet and fill up with imaginary soda. The next outlet, she would serve herself some imaginary ice cream. We did 1/2 a mile...snacking the whole way. I may have found MY new motivation.

She currently has a little mark on her lip, a scuff of some sort. I asked her how she got it. She launched into a fairly elaborate story about our "Elf on a Shelf", Jingle, sneaking into her room at night and punching her in the face. Mythical beings creep her out. She insists we should send Jingle back to Santa...one way. As for Santa? No likey. She's on the letter route. If he does come to visit (which is questionable with the naughtiness level in this house) he is not to stomp around in his loud boots, and he has to promise to stay downstairs. So many rules. Santa may just skip us.

One more:

Tonight before going to sleep, she asked, "How long is the night?" I replied, "About 11 hours for you.". Reily: "GRRRRR! I can't keep my mouth shut for THAT long!!"

That's for sure.