NOTE: I'm cheating a little bit here. This is a repost of one of my favorite memories with Cyra. I was really stuck for a topic and quite honestly I'm just a bit burnt out with all the posting. Not to mention that I was (for a change) pretty busy today. The following story took place shortly after we moved into the new house in July of 2011. I'll be back on Monday with all new posts to wrap up the last week of the Blogging A to Z Challenge.
Having an outdoor space that we can actually move around in is one of the reasons why Scott and I liked this house so much. The girls have a great place to play and run around and actually get to be kids. Towering trees, a pond and a gazebo make it an excellent place for young explorers.
The only draw back we’ve discovered is that despite all of our camping trips, the girls, mostly Cyra, are not 100% sure which bugs, spiders and snakes to avoid. So I found a friendly blog about snakes that live in Florida that had some amazing pictures.
“Look, Cyra,” I say pointing at the screen, “this one is an Eastern Diamondback Rattler. Stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Do they live here?”
“Yes. But you probably won’t see on in the yard. Besides, you’ll hear it before you see it anyway.” I click on the next picture. “See this one?”
“Yes.” Cyra says. “What is it?”
“It is a Southern Copperhead. Stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She pulls her feet up onto the couch and looks anxiously at the floor.
“Okay.” I tell her clicking on the next picture. “This is a Coral Snake. Really stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Mom, but the Scarlett King snake is okay.” Ashleigh pipes in.
“Yeah, but to be safe, stay the Hell away from both of them,” I reply.
“Mommy, I know that if the red and yellow touch it’s venomous,” Cyra states.
I nod and click on another picture.
“Look, this one is a Cottonmouth. Stay the Hell away from it.”
“I get it, Mommy.” Cyra says.
“Good.”
“Mom? Shouldn't you just tell her to stay away from all the snakes?” Ashleigh asks.
“Well, yeah, but like this one?” I click to another photo. “Eastern Indigo. Good snake to have around. And they’re pretty.” I look at the picture for a minute. “This is the one you saw, Cyra that made you jump 12 feet into the air shrieking like a banshee!” I pause, “You should probably just stay away from snakes.”
I swivel the desk chair around to face the girls. Cyra’s feet are tucked up tight beneath her.
“I am never going outside again,” she says.
“That’s silly,” I tell her, “What are you going to do when you see a snake in the yard?”
“Stay the Hell away from it!” she exclaims.
Showing posts with label funny things kids say. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny things kids say. Show all posts
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Cupid peppered us with arrows so it isn't our fault.
I started out writing a post yesterday afternoon about how much I disliked celebrating Valentine’s Day. And while that still remains true, I think this post is far less "soap-boxy" and far more "me." But for the record, I am not a fan of Valentine's Day.
Scott and I are not very affectionate out in public. We will occasionally hold hands, maybe give a quick peck on the cheek. We are, however, very affectionate at home. We snuggle on the couch, we kiss in the kitchen, and we hold hands at the table.
As Scott and I were saying goodnight last night (he goes to be bed way before me) we were smooching…NOT sucking face, playing tonsil hockey or anything that would normally take place in the bedroom – just affectionately kissing and hugging each other in the kitchen.
Ashleigh yelled out from the living room, “Could you please kiss quieter?”
To which both Scott and I burst out laughing and then kissed, smacking our lips together as loudly and as exaggeratedly as we could. Because, of course! Ashleigh stomped into the kitchen.
“Really?” she asked glaring at us. “I mean really! You’re worse than teenagers!”
Had seven KGB agents burst into the house demanding microfilm that was smuggled into our backpacks, we still wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing. Scott, trying so very hard not to laugh, leaned down and kissed me again.
“UGH! Get. A. Room!” She said and stomped into the dining room. “Why can’t you be normal like other parents?”
Still giggling, Scott and I went down the hall into our bedroom and once again kissed loudly.
“I can still hear you!”
“But we got a room,” Scott replied evenly.
Ashleigh followed us down the hall and pulled out door closed.
“You are so annoying!”
Happy Valentine’s Day to you and yours!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sailor Talk
Having an outdoor space that we can actually move around in is one of the reasons why Scott and I liked this house so much. The girls have a great place to play and run around and actually get to be kids. Towering trees, a pond and a gazebo make it an excellent place for young explorers.
The only draw back we’ve discovered is that despite all of our camping trips, the girls, mostly Cyra, are not 100% sure which bugs, spiders and snakes to avoid. So I found a friendly blog about snakes that live in Florida that had some amazing pictures.
“Look, Cyra,” I say pointing at the screen, “this one is an Eastern Diamondback Rattler. Stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Do they live here?”
“Yes. But you probably won’t see on in the yard. Besides, you’ll hear it before you see it anyway.” I click on the next picture. “See this one?”
“Yes.” Cyra says. “What is it?”
“It is a Southern Copperhead. Stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She pulls her feet up onto the couch and looks anxiously at the floor.
“Okay.” I tell her clicking on the next picture. “This is a Coral Snake. Really stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Mom, but the Scarlett King snake is okay.” Ashleigh pipes in.
“Yeah, but to be safe, stay the Hell away from both of them,” I reply.
“Mommy, I know that if the red and yellow touch it’s venomous,” Cyra states.
I nod and click on another picture.
“Look, this one is a Cottonmouth. Stay the Hell away from it.”
“I get it, Mommy.” Cyra says.
“Good.”
“Mom? Shouldn't you just tell her to stay away from all the snakes?” Ashleigh asks.
“Well, yeah, but like this one?” I click to another photo. “Eastern Indigo. Good snake to have around. And they’re pretty.” I look at the picture for a minute. “This is the one you saw, Cyra that made you jump 12 feet into the air shrieking like a banshee!” I pause, “You should probably just stay away from snakes.”
I swivel the desk chair around to face the girls. Cyra’s feet are tucked up tight beneath her.
“I am never going outside again,” she says.
“That’s silly,” I tell her, “What are you going to do when you see a snake in the yard?”
“Stay the Hell away from it!” she exclaims.
The only draw back we’ve discovered is that despite all of our camping trips, the girls, mostly Cyra, are not 100% sure which bugs, spiders and snakes to avoid. So I found a friendly blog about snakes that live in Florida that had some amazing pictures.
“Look, Cyra,” I say pointing at the screen, “this one is an Eastern Diamondback Rattler. Stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Do they live here?”
“Yes. But you probably won’t see on in the yard. Besides, you’ll hear it before you see it anyway.” I click on the next picture. “See this one?”
“Yes.” Cyra says. “What is it?”
“It is a Southern Copperhead. Stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She pulls her feet up onto the couch and looks anxiously at the floor.
“Okay.” I tell her clicking on the next picture. “This is a Coral Snake. Really stay the Hell away from this one.”
“Mom, but the Scarlett King snake is okay.” Ashleigh pipes in.
“Yeah, but to be safe, stay the Hell away from both of them,” I reply.
“Mommy, I know that if the red and yellow touch it’s venomous,” Cyra states.
I nod and click on another picture.
“Look, this one is a Cottonmouth. Stay the Hell away from it.”
“I get it, Mommy.” Cyra says.
“Good.”
“Mom? Shouldn't you just tell her to stay away from all the snakes?” Ashleigh asks.
“Well, yeah, but like this one?” I click to another photo. “Eastern Indigo. Good snake to have around. And they’re pretty.” I look at the picture for a minute. “This is the one you saw, Cyra that made you jump 12 feet into the air shrieking like a banshee!” I pause, “You should probably just stay away from snakes.”
I swivel the desk chair around to face the girls. Cyra’s feet are tucked up tight beneath her.
“I am never going outside again,” she says.
“That’s silly,” I tell her, “What are you going to do when you see a snake in the yard?”
“Stay the Hell away from it!” she exclaims.
Monday, November 8, 2010
No Scurvy For Me
Cyra's job in the mornings, aside from getting dressed, is to help make the lunches. Every morning without fail, after reminding her a couple dozen times, she trots out into the kitchen and starts pulling snacks out of the pantry.
This morning while we were working, I started slicing an orange for my lunch.
Cyra: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
Cyra: When we go camping this weekend, I want to bring lemons and limes.
Me: Umm...Okay. Sure. Why?
Cyra: (with the utmost serious expression) I don't want to get scurvy.
Me: (serious nod) Makes sense. I'll add them to the camping grocery list.
This morning while we were working, I started slicing an orange for my lunch.
Cyra: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
Cyra: When we go camping this weekend, I want to bring lemons and limes.
Me: Umm...Okay. Sure. Why?
Cyra: (with the utmost serious expression) I don't want to get scurvy.
Me: (serious nod) Makes sense. I'll add them to the camping grocery list.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
It's a Wiener
It all started with the cinnamon balls. My Daisy troop was making part one of their Christmas project, cinnamon applesauce ornament dough rolled into little balls so as to fit inside a paper ornament. As I was the one who brought the cookie sheets for the balls to dry on, they balls came home with me.
I put the three ball filled cookie sheets on the dining room table and didn’t think about them again until Ashleigh came downstairs and made the comment, “Mmmm, Cinnamony.”
“Yup. All my cinnamon balls smell l good.” I replied.
Ashleigh smirked. “That just sounds wrong, Mommy.”
“What?” I say, “Cinnamon balls.”
“Yes,” she replies with a giggle and a blush furiously creeping up her cheeks.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, “Has someone learned some new word meanings.”
More blushing and snickering and a small little nod.
So my response? I burst into a song about dangly parts and cinnamon balls. Ashleigh’s response? Fleeing upstairs.
What’s a mom to do? Of course I chased her singing and snickering. And there at the top of the stairs stood a pajama clad Cyra.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“I’m teasing Ashleigh.” I say.
“Cool. Can I help?”
“NO!” shouts Ashleigh. “I’m going to bed.”
“What are you singing about?”
“Dangly parts.” I say with a laugh. “Now off to bed with you all.”
Cyra walked to the door of her room and paused with a hand on her hip.
“I know what they are called, Mommy,” she says.
“Really?” I say and look at Ashleigh. “What are they called?”
With a blushing grin she says, “It’s a wiener.”
I put the three ball filled cookie sheets on the dining room table and didn’t think about them again until Ashleigh came downstairs and made the comment, “Mmmm, Cinnamony.”
“Yup. All my cinnamon balls smell l good.” I replied.
Ashleigh smirked. “That just sounds wrong, Mommy.”
“What?” I say, “Cinnamon balls.”
“Yes,” she replies with a giggle and a blush furiously creeping up her cheeks.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says.
“Oh,” I say, “Has someone learned some new word meanings.”
More blushing and snickering and a small little nod.
So my response? I burst into a song about dangly parts and cinnamon balls. Ashleigh’s response? Fleeing upstairs.
What’s a mom to do? Of course I chased her singing and snickering. And there at the top of the stairs stood a pajama clad Cyra.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“I’m teasing Ashleigh.” I say.
“Cool. Can I help?”
“NO!” shouts Ashleigh. “I’m going to bed.”
“What are you singing about?”
“Dangly parts.” I say with a laugh. “Now off to bed with you all.”
Cyra walked to the door of her room and paused with a hand on her hip.
“I know what they are called, Mommy,” she says.
“Really?” I say and look at Ashleigh. “What are they called?”
With a blushing grin she says, “It’s a wiener.”
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