Maggie woke up in the middle of the night crying from a nightmare. I calmed her down and asked her what it was about. She said she was getting washed in the washing machine. Poor thing is going to have my technicolor dreams.
Why do the kids who wake me at 5:30 most mornings, sleep until 7:15 on school days? Mind you, that is with me waking them at 7:15, which is the last possible minute to wake them and still make it to school. I would love to sleep until 7:15, but had the alarm set for 6:15 so we could all get ready, figuring in the dawdle time.
We have an unintentional compost situation going on outside our house. You might remember the pumpkin carving marathon from back in October. The result of the marathon turned out to be one extra pumpkin. Said pumpkin has been our decorative, fall pumpkin to look at when you pull into the driveway. Except then it started to get soft. Then it cracked a little. Then it started to ooze and turn to mush. Now it is flattening out like a pancake.
I keep thinking that on a really cold day my husband will pick up the frozen remains and cart them away. I keep hoping, anyway.
Now it is almost an experiment in physics. Or composting. Or something. I know when the warm winds of Tennessee start to blow it’s going to be an experiment in stink. I hope it is gone before then. (And it’s totally NOT my responsibility, or it would already be gone. That, my friends, is another post for another day.)
The last bit of random for the day:
When shopping at Costco the other day Maggie asked me what “those” were as she pointed to the chickens cooking on the rotisserie.
“What are they doing?”
“They are cooking them.”
“WHY would they cook ANIMALS??”
“umm, we eat chickens. So they cook them first.” (thinking she had eaten the last piece of chicken she would ever eat.)
“That’s silly. We don’t eat animals.”
I know, I know. I’m all about the honesty. I also believe in choosing your battles, and for now I choose for her to continue to eat chicken. I personally have always been thankful we call beef “hamburgers” and “steak.” I personally prefer to eat something called beef, rather than eating cow. Same thing, yet so not the same.