We were waiting to see the doctor for Max's five-year-old well-child check up. For some reason, going to the doctor makes Max ultra-hyper. But in the midst of jumping up and down on the exam table, Max suddenly paused and said, "I wish we had another baby."
My youngest is not yet two, so my man and I haven't really considered whether or not we are going to have another kid. Max's comment took me by surprise. "Why do you want another baby?"
"Because Third is tall now," he explained. Apparently, someone in the family must always be shorter than 33 inches.
"Do you want a sister this time or another brother?" I asked. Personally, my feelings on this subject are a bit mixed. I have always wanted a daughter to help me bear the burden of testosterone overload in this house. However, I have become very accustomed to all males and the thought of a child who wants to wear make-up, be fashionable, and carry around a purse is kind of unappealing. I would not call myself a tomboy, but I have never been interested in all that nonsense.
"I hate sisters," said Max.
I laughed. "You don't even have one. How do you know you hate sisters?"
"Because," he said. "Once I was at somebody's house and there was a sister and she kissed me."
Well, that settles that.
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Monday, December 22, 2014
How Much Cheese Can My Husband Eat?
This Christmas I made cheese logs to give away to family and friends. A double batch made 20 cheese logs. We gave them all away and didn't have enough, so I had to make some gingerbread men and handmade Christmas tree ornaments for some people I missed. Actually, the gingerbread men were exclusively for me, but I decided to share a few.
Anyway, my man has been grumbling the past few days because we didn't keep any of the cheese logs for us to eat. So I caved in today and decided to make another batch for ourselves. I sent him to the grocery store with a very specific list: 1 lb. sharp shredded cheddar cheese, 1 lb. Velveeta, and 1 lb. cream cheese.
When he returned, I took the bag from him and began emptying it on the table. The first thing I see is a two-pound block of sharp cheddar cheese and immediately begin to dread shredding a pound of it by hand.
"I asked for shredded," I said.
"You did? I didn't see that." He checked the list. Yep, it says shredded.
"Well, you have to shred it," I said.
I continue emptying the bag and pull out four 8 oz. boxes of cream cheese and a two-pound box of Velveeta.
"You got two pounds of everything! I only asked for one!"
"I thought we could double it," he said.
"Double it?! Do you know how many cheese logs I can get out of a double batch? TWENTY!!!"
"Oh," he said. "Sorry."
"Honey! That's SIX POUNDS of cheese! Do you think you can eat six pounds of cheese?!!"
He just laughed. Of course he thinks he can. Ugh.
Anyway, my man has been grumbling the past few days because we didn't keep any of the cheese logs for us to eat. So I caved in today and decided to make another batch for ourselves. I sent him to the grocery store with a very specific list: 1 lb. sharp shredded cheddar cheese, 1 lb. Velveeta, and 1 lb. cream cheese.
When he returned, I took the bag from him and began emptying it on the table. The first thing I see is a two-pound block of sharp cheddar cheese and immediately begin to dread shredding a pound of it by hand.
"I asked for shredded," I said.
"You did? I didn't see that." He checked the list. Yep, it says shredded.
"Well, you have to shred it," I said.
I continue emptying the bag and pull out four 8 oz. boxes of cream cheese and a two-pound box of Velveeta.
"You got two pounds of everything! I only asked for one!"
"I thought we could double it," he said.
"Double it?! Do you know how many cheese logs I can get out of a double batch? TWENTY!!!"
"Oh," he said. "Sorry."
"Honey! That's SIX POUNDS of cheese! Do you think you can eat six pounds of cheese?!!"
He just laughed. Of course he thinks he can. Ugh.
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