a crib: Why did I buy a crib when my children prefer to sleep on my face?
Size 4 pants: I mean, honestly, when did I wear these, when I was ten? I don't remember ever wearing the Ghost of Pants Past that now just sit in the closet and mock my badonkadonk every time I walk in. (and why the heck didn't spell-check alert me to "badonkadonk"?)
a toy closet: This is what I should have done. I should have called the playroom "the closet", and contrariwise, called the closet "the playroom" Then all the toys would always end up in the closet. That's logic.
a flushing toilet: For as much as my kids actually manage to flush the toilet, I should have installed chamber pots at a fraction of the cost. (This can also include the light switches. What is the point, really?)
an easel: My lovely easel is gathering dust as my $15 tubes of paint dry up and crack in their shells. Alas!
a magnifying mirror: Oh the horror! I used to think I was a normal looking person. Now I know I am a creviced, pock-marked, stray-haired, blemish-ridden Baba Yaga. Why do I have this thing? No one is walking around looking at my skin at 3x magnification.
A mop: I already had socks.
Size 4 pants: I mean, honestly, when did I wear these, when I was ten? I don't remember ever wearing the Ghost of Pants Past that now just sit in the closet and mock my badonkadonk every time I walk in. (and why the heck didn't spell-check alert me to "badonkadonk"?)
a toy closet: This is what I should have done. I should have called the playroom "the closet", and contrariwise, called the closet "the playroom" Then all the toys would always end up in the closet. That's logic.
a flushing toilet: For as much as my kids actually manage to flush the toilet, I should have installed chamber pots at a fraction of the cost. (This can also include the light switches. What is the point, really?)
an easel: My lovely easel is gathering dust as my $15 tubes of paint dry up and crack in their shells. Alas!
a magnifying mirror: Oh the horror! I used to think I was a normal looking person. Now I know I am a creviced, pock-marked, stray-haired, blemish-ridden Baba Yaga. Why do I have this thing? No one is walking around looking at my skin at 3x magnification.
A mop: I already had socks.
Little Boy Pants: Boy pants should just be sold with the knees already cut out. A better idea would be little mops sewn to the knees of the Little Boy Pants. I think there's a market for that.
a filing cabinet: Well, I suppose it IS a good place to store credit card bills and receipts from 1998 (the year we bought the filing cabinet).
oh, I could go on.
9 comments:
Oh Laura, you need to post more often. You give me a good laugh- mostly because you tell the truth!
excellent - and just what i needed in blogland - sumfin insightfull
Amen to the crib. I'm going to add school clothes because my kids get theirs stained so fast there's no point separating them from "play" junkie clothes.
Oh, Laura, I just love ya.
awesome. and amen. especially on the the magnifying mirror. what on earth? who invented that torture device?
Same with me and the filing cabinet.
I wondered that about the couch today. I could have gotten a pillow cut the outside of it and let them pull the guts out of that! The boy pants idea made me think, how about a vacuum cleaner that they can ride on. My boys go up and down the hallway pushing a big plastic truck and then spin out. Could they push a vacuum instead.
Ha! Elizabeth, I think we're on to something here. Toys that clean!
Too true and WAY too funny! Oh, filing is the bane of my existence. And I've never wanted a magnifying mirror for those very reasons. What I don't know won't hurt me! Lydia needs Little Boy Pants in her size, as well.
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