At last week's den meeting, we talked for a moment about gun safety to our Cub Scouts. When attempting to stress the lethality of firearms, our chattiest Scout raised his hand and said, "Well, guns aren't always bad. One time, I shot my sister, and she didn't even die or anything!"
It must be an adventure every day, living in that family.
Monday, April 9, 2012
An Epiphany
I've determined why I enjoy my job as much as I do. For three hours a day, I cook, clean, and holler at kids -- in other words, I do exactly the same things that I would be doing if I were to stay at home. I just get paid to do them here!
Dream job for the win!
Dream job for the win!
Friday, April 6, 2012
Like pulling teeth
Wicked Stepmother Confession:
Today, I forced The Boy to do something against his will. He approached me earlier, asking to play the Xbox. A quick glance out the window on my part led to my cruel and inhumane response: "No, bud. Look how beautiful it is outside. Why don't you go ride your bike or play with a friend?"
You'd have thought I'd shoved bamboo shoots under his fingernails. The Boy proceeded to huff, sigh heavily, and heave himself onto the couch. "Ugh. But I just don't have any energy."
If you've ever been nine years old, you understand that this reply was pure and total horse manure. Interrupting another heavy sigh, I whip out the big guns. "You're not staying inside. No Xbox, no movies. Go play outside."
With a look of pure contempt, The Boy turned huffily and trudged up the stairs in a manner reminiscent of the mournful trek of the Swomee Swans and Brown Barbaloots in Dr. Seuss's "The Lorax." A heartbreaking spectacle, let me tell you.
Moments later, I hear hooting and hollering outside. Peering once again out the window, I spy The Boy leaping and cavorting around with the biggest, stupidest smile he could muster plastered across his face.
If I'm not careful, someone's going to call Child Protective Services on me. Hide yo' kids.
Today, I forced The Boy to do something against his will. He approached me earlier, asking to play the Xbox. A quick glance out the window on my part led to my cruel and inhumane response: "No, bud. Look how beautiful it is outside. Why don't you go ride your bike or play with a friend?"
You'd have thought I'd shoved bamboo shoots under his fingernails. The Boy proceeded to huff, sigh heavily, and heave himself onto the couch. "Ugh. But I just don't have any energy."
If you've ever been nine years old, you understand that this reply was pure and total horse manure. Interrupting another heavy sigh, I whip out the big guns. "You're not staying inside. No Xbox, no movies. Go play outside."
With a look of pure contempt, The Boy turned huffily and trudged up the stairs in a manner reminiscent of the mournful trek of the Swomee Swans and Brown Barbaloots in Dr. Seuss's "The Lorax." A heartbreaking spectacle, let me tell you.
Moments later, I hear hooting and hollering outside. Peering once again out the window, I spy The Boy leaping and cavorting around with the biggest, stupidest smile he could muster plastered across his face.
If I'm not careful, someone's going to call Child Protective Services on me. Hide yo' kids.
An introduction, of sorts
Hello all.
My name is Bonnie. I am a step mother to a rowdy 9-yr-old boy, a den leader for a group of Wolf Cub Scouts, and a lunch lady at a junior high. As such, I am privy to many awkward, silly, educational, sometimes sad, but most times absolutely hilarious experiences. This blog is my attempt to share these experiences. Dive right in. But I'll warn you: this could get messy.
My name is Bonnie. I am a step mother to a rowdy 9-yr-old boy, a den leader for a group of Wolf Cub Scouts, and a lunch lady at a junior high. As such, I am privy to many awkward, silly, educational, sometimes sad, but most times absolutely hilarious experiences. This blog is my attempt to share these experiences. Dive right in. But I'll warn you: this could get messy.
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