My Life as a Kung Fu Fighter

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

When I turned 12, my sister and I took a course on how to babysit. She and I learned the tricks of the trade: how to change diapers without getting poop everywhere, how to save a choking child, how to be the afternoon's entertainment.
What the class never touched on, however, was how to send the kids to bed and sneak junk food out of the pantry without getting caught. This was an artform, one that was perfected over time. One that I still put into practice at my parents' house when we visit.
I had to teach Adam the Way last week when we had the munchies before dinner. My mom was taking care of our daughter, and my dad was out of the house altogether. The perfect opportunity.
Adam immediately went for the chocolate.

"No, no, no - you can't just take THAT one. There are only 3 Reses Peanut Butter Cups left - he'll know someone took it."

He reaches for the York Peppermint Patty.

"That's better because it's under the those plates. But you can't throw the wrapper away because what if he sees it in the trash can? You have to stuff it in your pocket.
See, you can eat some of these marshmallows because the bag's already opened... and those Craisins on the top shelf. But not too many, because they'll KNOW. You can get a few of each. But put them back EXACTLY where you found them."

I want something big, something substantial.

"See that pudding? There are 2 stacks, 3 in each one. There's a different kind over there, just one though. But I really want THIS kind. I think I can eat one of those, and then put the other kind in the same stack. It gives the illusion that nothing has changed. I'll wash the spoon and put it back. No one will ever guess. Good thing I brought in my bag for the container."

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

After too many months of thinking that I was going to sit on the couch throughout the remainder of this pregnancy, I had a breakthrough on Cinco de Mayo. I cleaned my house. It was no stellar Merry Maids job, but I made an attempt, I set some goals, and I accomplished what a bachelor in his mid-twenties might assume meant "clean."
So then I thought to myself, "Oh my GOD. If I can clean, I can BLOG too!!"

But then there was more TV watching, and here we are ten days later, and instead of blogging, I've only gotten better at the cleaning.

Really it's just that my brain has gotten lazy, and I always think, "Geez, what in the world would I blog about? Maternity clothes? Cellulite? Dancing with the Stars? I thought back to when I used to blog, about the stuff that people aren't REALLY supposed to discuss in actual conversation. Like farting. And placentas. I figured out that all the television has sucked the sick thoughts from my head, and all I can think about is, "Oh MAN. It's 8:05, and if I don't hurry, I'll totally miss who is in the Bottom Two."

So here comes the sacrifice. Less TV, more sick thoughts about my life as a Kung Fu Fighter. Thank goodness the season finales are almost here. I'll be alone with my thoughts again.