We're half-assedly trying to potty train EB. She sat (fully clothed) on the potty tonight and said she pooped, so we gave her a sticker.
EB: Daddy, you get a sticker too?
Hubs: No. I don't get a sticker because I didn't poop on the potty. I'll get one at nine a.m. tomorrow.
My parents had EB for the day and took her to the Y.
My dad: After we swam, she watched the boys play basketball.
My mom: She liked watching the boys.
Hubs: I don't like this.
My dad: Playing with their balls.
Hubs: I really don't like this.
EB (our toddler) finds a crumb on her dinner plate and holds it up to me.
EB: See, Mommy?
Me: Oh, yes. It's tiny.
EB: It's not tiny.
Hubs (looking at me): That sounds like a conversation we've had.
We're on our way to breakfast when we pass a restaurant that's basically a rip-off of Hooters.
Hubs: We could go to Show-Me's.
Me: I don't need a side of titties with my eggs.
We've finished up bath time and our toddler is running naked around Hubs's home office.
Hubs: And she found my wallet. Great.
Me: Please, please, please let this be the only time in her life that she's naked while thumbing through a man's wallet.
We were at Target when I was approaching my due date with our first child. We were in the pajama/lingerie section and Hubs picked up a three pack of Christmas thongs.
Hubs: Here. You need these.
Me: Have you seen the size of my ass lately?
Hubs: That's why it's a three pack.
We're at a Mongolian grill where you create your own dishes to be grilled. Hubs has made Cajun fajitas that are really good.
My mom: How did you think to put that together?
Hubs: There was a sign on the wall with different flavor combinations.
Mom: I never would've thought to make something with a Cajun slant. You think Mongolian grill and you think Asian slant.
Me: Really, Mom? Asian slant?
We're eating fast food with my parents when EB (our almost-two-and-a-half-year-old) upends an empty cup over her chicken nuggets.
My dad: Did you hide your nuggets?
Me: Daddy likes to play "hide the nuggets".
Hubs: Why has there been a bag of shoes hanging on the garage door for a week?
Me: Those are my garage shoes. I keep meaning to put them back out there.
Hubs: You know the garage is just a foot farther away, right?
Me: Less than that. The door is only a couple inches thick.
[Hubs looks at me in amazement]
Me: It takes skill to reach this level of laziness.
Hubs: How did you not just put them in the garage? Didn't it take more effort to put them in a bag than it would've taken to throw them out the door?
Me: They're in a bag because I had to bring them down from upstairs and my hands were full. They were still full when I got down here, so I just hung the bag on the door.
Hubs: And it's still there.
Me: Hey. It's not my fault that I was the best of your options.
Me: Did you know that Mormons believe there are multiple levels of heaven and there are certain ones you can only get to if you have kids?
Hubs: Your own kids? What if you adopt?
Me: No, I had an intern who was Mormon and she'd had a hysterectomy and she said she was out of luck.
Hubs: That's stupid.
Me: Yeah, but you can't say that to them. You can't tell someone their religion is stupid.
Hubs: Hmph.
Me: What's weird is that they believe God is responsible for everything, right? And I want to ask them: if God makes you infertile, is it because he doesn't want you to reach the higher levels of heaven?
Hubs: Guess so. But can you ask that?
Me: Oh, yeah, sure. You can't suggest that someone's religion is stupid, but it's totally okay to suggest that their God hates them.
This post is delayed because we've been busy (new baby is five weeks old), so I can't remember the details. I'll paraphrase.
Hubs mumbles something as I'm pulling a shirt over my head.
Me: What?
Hubs: You don't listen to me.
Me: I listen; I just didn't hear you. What did you say?
Hubs: [this is the part I can't remember, so insert something stupid and mildly offensive]
Me: Shut up.
... Pause ...
Me: So I don't listen, and when I do, I tell you to shut up. So really, it's better for your self esteem if I just don't listen in the first place. I'm doing you a favor.
I'm standing at the stove with an open carton of eggs, watching butter melt in a frying pan.
Hubs: Oh, are you making eggs?
Me: ...