Speaking of rebels~today I got a little bit Crazy in the Spring air~I went outside for some exercise, cuz I figured four months off was probably about right~it was time to get back on that little red wagon. So I did, but nobody would pull me. I yelled and yelled and yelled...and can I just say, "BAD FORM" to those very SELFISH preschoolers who just walked on by.
Anyway, I was forced to HOIST my agile, ballerina body up and out, to mosey my girth away, but it actually ended up being fine, folks, because there was BREEZY BEAUTIFUL AIR SWISHING THROUGH MY HAIR. AAAAHHHHH!!!!! I flared my nostrils and sucked as much as I could into my depleted coffers, because there is really nothing quite like that fragrance. Better even than freshly cut diamonds.
But then suddenly, I became ill. Mm hmm. Spring Fever. Debilitating without proper medication. So I popped a couple (bags) of Cadbury eggs, grabbed the keys and the sons and went in search of stuff.
I like to think stuff has a soul, you know? Else how could the nurturing instinct be so powerful as to make me snatch and clutch it to my ample bosom, and then take it home with me without a second thought? I'm a giver, people...A caretaker........I AM A stuff foster parent.
"Who's a good stuff? Hmmm? Who's a good stuff?! YOU are! Yes, you are! Youz a good stuff! Yes, you is! (pet, pet, baby talk, coo) You da MOST BESTEST STUFF in the whoooooole wiiiiiide woooorld! Soooooo fun! Sooooo pretty! (pet, pet, caress, stroke) Ooooh, Mommy loves a pretty stuff!" (belly farts and flinging toss in the air)
Anyway, sons, stuff and I had a wonderful bonding experience. And they've named their new sister, "Hollister shirts." Darling.
But the most fun of all was that there was a truckload of students (teenage girls) there in the mall~ from England~which made them HIGHLY DESIRABLE to my sons. SKYSCRAPER, HELICOPTER, TOWER OF BABEL DESIRABLE. And I was witness to their superior flirting skills, people. Pleasantly surprised, as the apples fell~or were hurled with athletic prowess~faaaaarrrrr from the tree.
I sucked. it. up. in High School flirting. My older sister ROCKED THE SCENE! But me...I stood in the wings watching the play, face and fingers smeared against the window pane~on the outside looking in, always a bridesmaid~never the bride, the square peg in the round hole, living on the Island of Misfit Toys...well, you get the idea. So I was cheery to see the next generation takin' things up a notch.
Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah. Stuff. Bought a bunch. And like the poisoned-by-her-own-mother-girl on "The Sixth Sense,"......"I'm feeling much better now."