I've been getting a lot of mileage this week from the "cutesy" cartoons on Nick Jr, and so I suppose that the fickle witch Karma has shown her face in my house again. You wanna know what's worse than Little Bear?
How about the episode where Little Bear learns to play the recorder!!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't have bangs anymore, how can I hide the lobotomy scars?
This was the worst half hour in the history of television. Way worse than Oprah. Jim Carey only wishes he was this annoying. Everyone in the house is now dumber for having witnessed this. My ears started bleeding. It was like poison mixed with acid. Like guns that shoot rattlesnakes. The reciprocal of the chocolate peanut butter cup. The worst combination EVER!!! I didn't think that lime green and polyester had a TV show equivalent. But there it was. Little Bear puffing away on a plastic flute. And let me tell ya, the bear was not the only thing that blew.
Right after this abomination, I had to change one of the runts. I won't say which one it was to protect the future of the guilty, but let's just say that the term "blow out" doesn't quite cover it. I've never seen anyone poop their shoulder blades before. And I got to clean it up. Wheee!!!!
Beak rolled in about one and found me curled up in the fetal position, laughing hysterically. The living room looked like a directionally challenged suicide bomber mistook it for downtown Beirut.
Mom has what she calls ten minute blitzes designed to keep her house clean during the week. Every day, you crack the whip and make the Runts clean for ten minutes and then they can be done. It works pretty well. But by Friday, the little things getting missed during the daily blitz have piled up and the house looks like it does right now. It's clean enough that I don't have to die when Beak comes in, but its a long way from comfortable. I'm tired from chasing mini-terrorists all week and the last thing I want to do is clean the house and fix dinner. It's why I hate Fridays.
But I'm gonna go do it. It's why I get paid the big bucks.
And because I'm afraid the kids will turn on Little Bear if I don't.
Dear Mother,
ReplyDeleteYour objections to the phrase "Poop their shoulder blades" has been both anticipated and noted.
I apologize. I am really sorry. But I was laughing too hard not to write it.
Apology duly noted and accepted. I always knew that it would take a lot of work to "break' you of the potty humor!
ReplyDeleteI too have a strong aversion to the recorder. I don't know what Diane used to do with it, but I stoned it. She's still a little touchy about it so maybe you shouldn't mention it.
ReplyDeletePoop their shoulder blades gave me a good chuckle. And oh, the imagery in my mind... -Jess
ReplyDeleteI did once have a recorder. Katie did indeed stone it to death in the back yard. I am still touchy about it. But.... I bought a new one last summer.
ReplyDelete