Princess Turkey

My four year old was hard at work at her art station.

Sleeves rolled up and a whistlin’ while she worked, she was positively lost in her creative swirl.

I snuck a premature peek at the picture, but couldn’t make heads or tails. So, back to the scrubbing and sudsing in the kitchen I went.

Soon after, she presented her masterpiece to me, her familiar ear to ear grin pasted on her face.

“Wanna see?”

I got down to her eye level to meet her creation nose to nose.

The enormous bird was proudly sporting a full crop of widespread tail feathers colored pink, a fuchsia gobbler, and a lovely set of purple high heels.

I marveled at the details.

Rings sparkled from her feathery fingers. A diamond choker was clasped tightly around her gobbly neck. She held a lavender clutch. Her skinny legs stuck out from under her pink tutu. And a tiara teetered atop her tiny head.

Fashion at its finest.

“Princess turkey,” my little one explained.

“Simply delightful,” I affirmed.

I am always one to reward out-of-the-box thinking.

However, it did make me rethink that turkey sandwich.

Kinda gave me the guilts.

New Show on The Travel Channel

I had the opportunity to preview a new show, "Meet the Natives", that is scheduled to air on The Travel Channel this Sunday evening, November 29.

"Meet the Natives" chronicles the journey of five men from the remote Pacific island of Tanna as they tour the United States. These men are traditional farmers who typically wear grass skirts and sheaths (yes, those kind of sheaths). The spend their days living without the "conveniences" of modern men.

The show is done very tastefully, maintaining respect for the "native" men's culture. And, in the end, we are the ones who learn lessons from their thoughtful insights and warm humor.

Be sure to watch! This show premieres this Sunday evening, November 29 at 9 and 10 E/P.

Click here for a preview.

Mr. Potato Head's Thanksgiving

It was a lovely Thanksgiving feast in the playroom.

Mr. Potato Head sat at the head of the table.

Raggedy Ann and Andy squabbled over the corner seat.

A group of assorted Barbies gossiped and snickered on the left flank of the table.

Baby Alive balanced a full tea cup on the right.

And, Barbie Mariposa, in her full regalia, sat at the foot of the table. Her outstretched wings proved to be a logistical challenge at first. And, as usual, her lack of cooperation caused a flutter of whispers to rise from the rest of the Barbie crew.

Mr. Potato Head led the prayer of thanksgiving.

“We gather here today to join together…”

“Noone’s gettin’ hitched here, 'Tater Head.” Raggedy Andy was impatient.

“Yeah, that was last week,” gushed Bride Barbie, displaying her glittery plastic ring.

He began again.

“Here in the playroom, many toy creatures live together as family. We cohabitate together peacefully despite our differing backgrounds, toy stores of origin and Trademarks. As such…”

“Cut to the chase, Bud.” Andy wasn’t the only impatient toy. This heckle came from the Barbie crew.

“Ahem. We may occasionally bicker…However, we all contribute in our own, small way to a little child’s happiness. For this awesome opportunity, I think I speak for all when I say…”

“Muchas Gracias!” An abandoned, plastic Dora had found her way into the room to join the festivities.

“Damn straight, kid!” shouted Raggedy Andy before diving into the Play Doh pie and Moon Sand mashed potatoes.

Happy Thanksgiving from mine to yours!

Too Many Chefs in the Little Tykes Kitchen....

“Time to go!” I hollered upstairs to my little ducklings. I was eager to get them loaded and off for some grocery shopping.

“I’m busy.”

Busy?

Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that she was indeed busy.

Teetering in her Princess high heels, my two year old was manning the Little Tykes kitchen. Pots were clanking. Soup was bubbling. The timer was ticking. Something mysterious was baking. And the kettle was on.

Busy was the word.

“Maybe you can finish later,” I suggested.

“No. I busy.”

Between all the pots and brews, it was apparent my little one needed another set of hands.

“Here, I’ll help you finish,” I offered.

“No.”

Apparently, there were too many chefs in the kitchen.

Not wanting to disrupt her creative flow, I chose a little Tom Foolery.

“This Fairy Spice Soup looks lovely. Mind if I taste it?” I asked.

I slurped the imaginary concoction enthusiastically, incorporating the loudest sound effects.

“Oh, no!! We forgot the Fairy Spice!!” I was hopeful my overacting wasn’t killing the scene.

Needless to say, soon after we were all quickly strapped in the minivan off to buy some more fairy spice.

And milk, eggs and bread….

After all, when in Rome….

A Jurassic Lullaby

“Rock a Bye, Baby…”

My two year old was cradling the plastic Jurassic beast in her arms, patting its scaly back and kissing its reptilian nose.

“Shhh,” she whispered in its ear before placing it in the cradle for further rocking.

“Go sleep,” she cooed.

I stared at the Velociraptor, swaddled in a pink baby blankie, bottle shoved between its prominent fangs.

I admired my little one’s nurturing; her kind way with the ferocious creature.

She slipped a chubby cheeked baby doll under the covers next to the dinosaur.

“Friend,” she declared, eyes glimmering with joy.

And, I could have sworn, those red dino eyes shared the same glimmer.

For different reasons.

Needless to say, I re-located that fat dolly to a safe house later that day.

Not on my watch, ya overgrown croc!

Just wanted to give a big thank you to Heather from The Extraordinary Ordinary. She gave me such a lovely shout out the other day here. I am the "short and sweet" that she refers to (third paragraph down to be specific). If you haven't seen Heather's blog, please head over. Her posts are so well written and moving. After visiting her blog, you'll feel as if you just had a chat over tea with an old friend. The gal's got talent. You won't be disappointed.

My favorite post of Heather's is here. "Remember" It's simply lovely.

Here's Swine in Your Eye

It started with an innocent splash of Purell after grocery shopping. Some quick disinfecting of the shopping cart handle. And a little extra hand washing at home.

Which quickly graduated to…

Obsessive purchasing of disinfectants.

Frantic stocking up on a month’s worth of chicken soup and Children’s Tylenol.

Trolling Facebook for clues as to who to avoid.

And, though I am not proud to admit…..breath holding in crowded areas.

Yes, I have been sucked into this feverish frenzy, the black hole of flu panic. Determined to dodge the flu bullet, I have built a virtual flu fortress. I am armed with Lysol and equipped with Echinacea. I possess an arsenal of antioxidants, vitamins, herbal remedies and citrus beverages.

Prepared and ready to do battle, I am a flu bug warrior. Hear me roar.

And, step aside as I bubble wrap my blog, will ya?

So, That's Why I Haven't Been Sleeping

I was scanning the headlines the other day when I came across some shocking news.

“Major cutbacks at Sandman Incorporated”

Across the nation, thousands of Sandmen have received their walking papers.

“All I got was this pink slip and a reminder not to let the door hit me on the way out,” says one disgruntled former Sandman.

“They said I was sleeping on the job. You try working the night shift, Bud!” screamed another newly unemployed sleep worker.

"I'm FIRED?! But, I can put anyone to sleep anywhere, anytime. I got skills, I tell ya!"

Thousands more Sandmen have seen reductions in hours, salary as well as benefits. Morale is down.

“I can’t believe you need a Master’s Degree to qualify for this flea bitten job!”

There has been talk of a merger with a popular over the counter sleep remedy.

The impact is great.

People everywhere are laying awake at night, wheels a turnin’, hoping their sandman will come. And, sometimes his arrival never comes. Apparently, there have been rolling Sandman blackouts in a feeble attempt to decrease spending.

Public outrage is intense.

“I have three kids under five! I can’t afford to have the Sandman skip my house.”

“Why don’t they outsource, Dam Gummit?”

“What about those unskilled workers? I mean, how hard is it to toss some sand around?”

On a positive note, all the media coverage has shed some light on a previously unknown world.

“You mean there really is a Sandman?”

“That’s sweet. How exactly do you land a Sandman gig?”

“Do they run a background check on these fellas?”

Needless to say, the Tooth fairy has been shaking in her boots.

Yep, things have been tough for some of our nocturnal magical creatures.

Think Santa’s safe?

Eek.

It was a Snazzy Little Number

My toddler has taken to carrying a purse.

It’s a snazzy little number, black satin with embroidered flowers. And, a doo-dad on top, of course.

It can usually be found happily swinging on her wrist.

She simply won’t leave home without it.

It’s accompanied us to doctor’s appointments, trips to the library and play dates.

In the event that it is ever forgotten, there is much duress, and we simply must double back.

One evening, my curiosity got the better of me. I spelunked the depths of her little purse to discover bits and pieces of her life.

A hair clip, a discarded Band Aid, an injured Crayola and a fuzzy lollipop.

And, then I thought of my own purse, sitting sprawled upside down in it’s usually place in the middle of the living room floor amongst the Legos and Mr. Potato head accessories.

I peered deep within to inventory my purse’s contents.

Yep.

A lollipop, a hair clip, a Band-Aid, and a broken Crayola were tangled together in a hodgepodge at the bottom.

Some things just don’t evolve past preschool, do they?

Bells and Whistles

My daughters came home Halloween night after a good romp around the block, with trick or treat bags full to bursting.

They were simply over the moon. Like good little hunters dragging home a feast for the village, they were bursting with pride.

My preschooler couldn’t stop babbling on about the Nestle chocolate bar she had acquired. Apparently, she had elbowed her way past a couple of goblins in order to achieve her sweet victory.

My toddler bore the same sentiments over a rather sticky, purple lollipop, wrapper long ago discarded. Heaven knows where she found that gem.

Hubs and I were feeling warm and mushy ourselves. It was our first Halloween without a stroller or Baby Bjorn.

And, no assistance was needed with doorbells.

At ages two and four, our little gals are growing up.

To top the evening, we discovered their Halloween bags were magical.

Simply magical.

Apparently, these trick or treat bags had come equipped with some bells and whistles we hadn’t anticipated.

There was a disappearing button. One push. Candy gone. This button has a hair trigger. Watch out for those sticky, little fingers.

Luckily, there was also an automatic refill button. Thanks to hubby’s quick late night trip to Walmart. He was feeling guilty about his post bedtime candy raid, after all. The guy’s got heart.

Now, if we can just rig that automatic refill button to a couple choice places around the house, we’re good to go.

Wallet.

Dreyer’s Ice Cream container.

Cat food bowl.

Fancy hand creme.

Patent pending….