Nuggets

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".

You Can't Touch My Lazy

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.

Don't Read This One If You're Mormon

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.

It's Best This Way

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.

No, Actually, I'm Taming a Wild Squirrel

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: ...

Oscar Mayer

We phoned it in on dinner tonight.  Hubs warmed up hot dogs.

Hubs:  How many wieners do you want? 
Me:  Just one.  It's kind of what I signed on for in marrying you, right?  Just one wiener for the rest of my life?
Hubs:  And don't you forget it.

Can't Stop Myself

I'm ridiculously pregnant (due in two weeks) and I'm feeling an overwhelming urge to tie up loose ends and prepare for this baby. As a result, I'm overdoing it.  This conversation occurred as we were making the guest bed tonight (just one of the dozen loads of laundry I've done in the past week).

Hubs: You need to stop.  Tomorrow, just sit down and rest.  There's nothing else that has to be done.
Me:  I just need to vacuum and mop downstairs and do one more load of laundry. And make pancakes to freeze.
Hubs:  You're not spending five hours making pancakes.  Once the baby is here, you won't be able to rest.  You need to rest now.  If you want pancakes, I'll buy you pancakes.
Me:  I'm not eating shitty pancakes.
Hubs:  This isn't a farm.  You don't have to do everything yourself.

Later, I make one final trip downstairs to grab a couple things and remember there's a load of laundry in the dryer.  In trying to wrangle the basket and my giant belly through the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs, I drop stuff.  Hubs hears me and comes to the rescue; we meet halfway up the stairs and he takes the basket from my hands.

Hubs:  [sighs]  Be sure to milk the cows in the morning.