Day 3: My Favorite Quote
This is a tough one. I don’t really have a favorite quote. I’ve spent all day thinking about it and I haven’t been able to settle on a single one. Do I get all deep and philosophical or do I go for the funny bone? Do I source a movie, a book, or maybe a comedian? And how do I get it done soon since I’ve already wasted the day thinking about it? Throwing in the towel on the third day is not an option.
Then it hits me. My absolute favorite people to quote are my kids. Here are ten conversations and observations The Boy (age 12) and The Girl (age 7) have had in the past six months:
(While walking home from school)
The Girl: I want to go to Mexico. They have the Day of the Dead, and tacos, and quesadillas, and a big party.
(While watching a Monster High movie for the first time)
The Girl: Monsters are hard core.
Me: So, what do you want to be for Halloween?
The Girl: I know! A piece of candy! Or pie! Or a PEEP!!
The Boy: You don’t even like peeps, hypocrite.
The Girl: Your hair looks nice. Where did you get that eye shadow?
The Girl: Because I think it’s mine.
(Working on unit conversion equations)
Me: Do you know how many centimeters in a meter?
The Boy: No.
Me: Okay. Do you know what “centi” stands for?
The Boy: (Looking at me like I’m an idiot) Of course. Chocolate.
The Boy: King Henry Died Drinking Chocolate Milk. Kilo, hecto, deca, deci, centi, and milli.
Me: (Silently cursed myself for thinking I could get through a homework session without wine)
The Girl: Girls are better than boys. Know why?
Me: Um, why?
The Girl: Because me and my friends were chasing boys today and I caught one.
Me: What did you do when you caught him?
The Girl: I told him he’s too slow, of course.
Me: Hey, check out this fundraiser Dairy Queen is doing.
The Girl: Finally! Now I can get ice cream and help kids!
The Boy: Wait… we get ice cream?
The Girl: I must have a cold because my nose is running.
Me: Your nose is running because you’re crying. Again.
The Girl: (crying) I am not!
The Boy: This ice cream scoop doesn’t work!
Me: That’s because it’s a soup ladle.
The Boy: Truth or dare?
The Girl: Dare.
The Boy: Sing a song about how much of a butt you are.
The Girl: I’m not a butt!
And finally, a bonus:
Me: Why don’t you rub my feet?
The Girl: Well, okay, but I’m gonna need some gloves.
Tune in tomorrow when I write about my dream job. I’m fairly certain it will involve explosives, marshmallow fluff, and a spy plane.