Free to Good Home

EB (age 3) is having a bad day.

Me: Can we just put her out on the curb?
Hubs: We'd have to put a sign on her, but with lies. Like when you try to give away a cat and you're like, "What? This cat? No, he never pukes."

You Did This To Me

Hubs has asked me to plug in the GPS, and is waiting while I fumble around in the back seat.

Hubs:  Is it in yet?  Hey. . . I've asked that before.
Me:  Really?  Um, thanks, dear.
Hubs:  Oh, wait.  That was a slam on you wasn't it?
Me:  You know I've had two kids.  Geez.

Sketchy Santa

We're watching the original stop-motion Santa Claus is Coming to Town.  It's the scene where Santa is still a young man and makes his first trip to deliver toys.  He's singing to the kids to sit on his lap and give him a kiss and he'll give them toys.  It's unsettling.

Santa: "When you sit on my lap today, a kiss a toy is the price you'll pay."
Me: Have you ever noticed how creepy this is?
Hubs: Is it?  I'm not paying attention. 
Me: Yeah. But it's like a-van-with-no-windows creepy. Like, hide-your-kids creepy.

Your Time Will Come

We're eating dinner when our 8-month-old starts pooping.

Hubs: I wish I could just take a dump in the middle of dinner.
Me: In about forty more years, you can.

The Idler Wheel Is Wiser. . .

EB (our toddler): Can we watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer?  Had a very shiny nose? And if you ever saw it? You woodeebasayih glows?
Hubs: Oh. Is that the name of the movie?
Me: Yes. It's the Fiona Apple version.

That Was Then. . .

I'm sitting on the couch, crocheting a gigantic afghan.

Hubs: What is that?
Me: It's an afghan I started a few years ago. 
Hubs: Who's it for?
Me: It's for you. For your office.
Hubs: Hmm. Thanks.

A few minutes later, we get into a discussion about how long it takes to crochet a single row. Hubs takes in the enormity of the project and realizes just how much time will go into completing it.

Hubs: Wow. You must really love me.
Me: Well, like I said, I started it a few years ago.

Not the Same Thing

Our little one is eight months old, and is terribly fond of abusing her father's giant cranium.  Hubs walks up to us, bending over and ducking his head so she can reach it.

Hubs: Go ahead. I know you want to hit it.
Me: That's what Mommy says when she bends over for Daddy.

Push It

I'm inquiring about my parents' experience wedging a giant stroller into the back of my car. 

My mom: Oh, you know your dad. He was trying to force it and getting all frustrated. I had to tell him how to get it in there.  [Pause.]  Story of my damn life.

Helping Out

Me: Can you watch the girls for a minute while I finish this?
Hubs: Yeeeeeah. . . I'm not feeling it.
Me: Well, I'm not feeling your face.
Hubs: It's not my face you have to feel.