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Monday, February 16, 2015

Randoms, part 6(?)

Random #1:  
Here's a tip: Don't just paint your walls the moment the urge hits you, please change your clothes first.  I know, you may have known that.  I did too, but I regret not acting on it.  Oh well, white spots in my greenish hair is kind of Spartan looking, not to mention my awesome speckled outfit now.

Random #2:
Do you know any boys who think they are stronger than their mothers?  Apparently there is something that happens in the mind of a boy when he nears preteen years where he thinks he is no longer a rugrat and has become the boss of the world.  They learn how to throw a football and can carry their mothers on their backs, so they think they have arrived at manhood.  I had to knock a certain little off of his high horse last night.  It went like this.  

Son 1 to younger sibling: Monopoly is stupid.  I could crush you in Monopoly.  
Me:  So, it's stupid but you want to play it?  Awesome.  How about football is stupid and I could crush you in it?  
Son 1: No you couldn't!  
Hubby:  Yes, she could.  She is taller than you, she weighs more than you (by probs 15-20 pounds), and she is stronger than you.  
Son 1: No way!  SO!?  I could throw a football farther than you, Mom.  
Me:  False.  
Son 1:  How far can you throw?  I can throw 20 yards.  
Me:  I could whomp on that.  
Hubby:  She can probably throw at least 30 or 40.  I, however, could throw like 50 or 60 (gotta keep that pecking order straight, apparently).  She could beat you in wrestling and arm wrestling, too.  
Son 1:  NO WAY!  Let's go, Mom!  
Me:  You're going to be crushed, dude.  
Hubby:  You're going to regret that.  Mom will beat you.  
Son 1:  Let's go right now.  
Me: (clearing my dinner plate away)  Bring it.  Let's go lefts.  (Hands locked, other hand on the elbow of the other.)  1, 2, 3, go.  

Instant crushage.  Down in less than two seconds.  

Son 1:  No way!  Okay, let's do right then.  
Me:  Seriously?  I'll crush you faster than before.  (Hands locked, other hand on the elbow of the other.)  1, 2, 3, go.  

Even instant-er crushage.  Down in one second flat.  

Homeboy, don't mess with Mama.  He gave up on the idea of wrestling, plus I wanted to paint my nails.  It looks better when you win at arm wrestling when you have glittery pink nails, I think.  

Peace, love, and I need to repaint my pink due to all of the gobs of white paint now,
Ms. Daisy

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