I've been having trouble picking a topic this week, therefore the logical thing to do is to 1. not post until I have something awesome to say and 2. to talk through posts in the shower that are HILARIOUS until I get out all clean and soapy smelling, then they sound kinda lame (maybe they're just dirty jokes-ba da BING!). So, it came down to either pondering why God loves kangaroos more than me or comparing my three year old to a geriatric octogenarian.
I almost went with the kangaroos, because, I remember in third grade seeing one give birth in some film we watched about Australia because our teacher was from Melbourne, and even then I thought, "Wow! That's the way to have babies!" Then I had a baby and I thought,"Wow! That's the way to carry around a baby too!" Because if there's one thing I absolutely hate about babies is all the junk I'm expected to carry, let alone push in a miniaturized Conestoga wagon. I mean look at this. First, your typical Conestoga for transcontinental migration:
Then your typical stroller travel system, which I can only assume is meant to be used for transcontinental migration as well:
Then, there's God's favored animals, the kangaroos:
Dude! He even supplies the mommy Kangas with Snickers! It can thereby be concluded, that God loves kangaroos more than he loves me. (That's sound logic people!)
But then I thought, no, I don't need another post where I complain about being pregnant. I mean, my five readers might decide to take me off their Google Reader lists and then I would be down to one, Jon, who is compelled by our marriage vows to not only read everything I write but to tell me why in the heck I'm the most hilarious blogger he's ever read with every single post! And, really that's just kinda lame. (The part about losing readers, not the coerced ego building.*)
So, I decided to go with listing all the reasons why I'm no longer raising a sticky fingered preschooler, but in reality a geriatric octogenarian.
1. She keeps asking for an earlier bed time. (Who knew 8pm was outrageously late!)
2. She keeps receipts in a box. (Literally, receipts. In a box.)
3. She will typically spend an hour or two reading on the toilet each afternoon. (The tut-tut-tut is all over and done with, I think she just likes the quiet.)
4. She keeps asking me to turn that dang rock and roll down when we're in the car. (OK, she doesn't say dang or rock and roll, just, "Mommy, the music is too loud. Could you turn it down, please?" She's nothing if not a polite octogenarian wanna be.)
5. She's never cold because she always wears a sweater inside.
But, then I thought, nooooo. I wrote Katie into my post last week, and, really, I think my geriatric octogenarian comparison is only cracking me up.
So, instead of alienating my extensive readership with more preggo mommy stories, I'll post this fact:
Did you know that if you google the terms "goose step" and "sauerkraut pizza" my blog is the second hit out of 3,370 results on Google, but if you search for "pasties on my butt"** I'm not even in the top 100 of 113,000 hits? What are your thoughts on this obviously outrageous phenomenon?
*I expect the usual list by 8am tomorrow morning Jon, detailing each and every hillariousnessment from this blog! (BTW, start with the word hillariousnessment.)
**(Legal/Morality clause) If you do this I don't recommend clicking on any of the links.