noises

December 26, 2007

dear creepy noises upstairs in this damn house, could you stop it already? it really sounds like there’s someone up there, but i’m too much of a puss to check it out. i’m not even 5’5″! what the fuck am i going to do if there really is someone up there? dial 911 and run screaming from the house, allowing you to complete your plunder of this lovely place uninhibited? i’d rather pretend i can’t hear you at all, creepy noises, instead of admitting your existence and thus having to acknowledge the need for me to check you out. maybe it’s just the dog snoring! yeah, that’s it! zoey, the 10 lb, 78-year-old lhasa apso snoring so loudly and step-soundingly that i am led to think there’s someone in the house (whose door i forgot to lock after said dog’s walk, of course. come on in, criminals! here’s my social security number, while you’re at it!).  just don’t rape me or take my macbook, please– I haven’t even paid this damn thing off yet. the rest is all yours.scaredly,scrappy 

the proposal.

December 20, 2007

Little Man,

I think I’ve reminded you nearly seven thousand times not to shout out when I’m talking. Especially during story time!! Story time is my favorite time of day and you talking while I’m reading is inexcusable.

 But, today, you’re excused.

Today you said what can get you out of almost any kind of trouble.

While I was midsentence in a story about a hedgehog who stretched out a red wooly hat (?), you declared,

“For Christmas, I’m going to buy you two wedding rings!!”

What happens to a man between the ages of five and twenty-five that words like this just don’t come as easily?

Miss Pants

boxers

December 10, 2007

Hey Penguin Boxers-

I have not been feeling well. Yesterday morning, when I ripped all of the blankets (seven of them-it’s cold!!) off of my bed in a Nyquil-induced haze, frantically looking for my cell phone, I did not notice you.

Today, however, when I went into my room to unpack, you caught my eye. I knew something out of the ordinary had crept into my room. I actually froze, cocked my head to the side, and stared at you to try to figure out what I was looking at. You are red. You have little penguins on you. You are boxer shaped.

Oh, wait! You are red, penguin boxers!

But, how did you…?

Why are you…?

Who do you belong to?

Oh. That’s right.

Like a needed a reminder right now.

Thanks, Penguin boxers.

Pants

you’re killing me

December 6, 2007

Children,

 Listen up, cuties. Maybe this is my fault. I haven’t been clear enough? You aren’t sure what my expectations are?

 Here is a list of things that you may not, for any reason, do:

eat your shirt

eat the trophy

smack someone’s forehead

glue the scissors

swordfight with pencils

tap me on the shoulder ten billion times while I ignore you

scream, “Teacher!!!!!” when I have just reminded you to raise your hand silently

climb up the slide

hide in the corner all day and then ask to be my helper (what are you going to help me do? learn how to be an expert corner-hider?)

put your hands in someone else’s lap

follow me around

sit under the table when you’re mad at me

 say, “Oh, no you di’n’t!” You’re five!!

call someone a hoochie

laugh maniacally while I’m talking.

Here are the things that I insist you keep doing:

bring me presents (what’s better than tangerines and candy canes? um…nothing!)

tell me how pretty I am

tell me funny, secret stories about your family

make up outrageous things that will never happen (in a week, you’re going to have 16 sisters and 20 brothers? seriously?)

give me hugs for no good reason.

Are we clear? I pretty much adore every last one of you. I know that each of you is capable of learning (and acting human) and it’s upsetting to not see you trying to do either. If you don’t let me help you now, your life will be so tough.

 No one wants to see a 30 year old man eating his clothes.

Love,

Miss Pants