Blueberry Bandit

My daughter is a blueberry bandit. True, she is passionate about most fruits.

But, blueberries?

Blueberries hold a special power over my little one. Yes, I am afraid blueberries have attained movie star status in our home.

A blueberry sighting is followed by screeching, shaking, and near hysterics.

“Booooberriesss!!”

I am afraid she is a bit of a blueberry groupie.

“I love boooberries.”

She’s proud President of the blueberry fan club, even.

“More booooberries?”

She’s quite possibly crossing the lines into blueberry stalking...

“Where’d the boooberry go?”

Some say she’s criminal in her passion.

“Sweetheart, let Mommy wipe that blueberry stain off your face.”

You don’t think this could lead to blueberry OCD, do you?

“Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.Booberries.”

Could this pave the way to addiction?

“Can I score some ‘boo off ya, bro?”

Hubs and I thought about going cold turkey. Pull the blueberry plug. Cut off the supply. Bite the blueberry bullet and stop the blueberry madness once and for all.

Lasted a day.

“Staaawberries?”

The Show Must Go On!

“Hurry! The show is about to start!”

I grabbed hubby’s hand and led him to our seats. Luckily, we scored front row and center seating, atop overturned laundry baskets in the center of the playroom.

The lights were dimmed and Hello Kitty flashlights illuminated the dancers. The jewelry box music played again and again as the dancers twirled spontaneously.

“Bravo!” Pops and I shouted which, of course, led to more repetitive twirling and scarf flailing. The dancers were decked in their best show time gear with crooked tiaras slipping, fluffy boas bouncing and plastic Princess pumps flopping.

The energy was pumping, the clapping was escalating and the dancers were bouncing.

And, then a slip occurred. A purple boa became entangled around a Cinderella pump. A bit of a domino effect occurred, with dancers landing atop of dancers. Tiaras left their owners and shiny plastic beads spewed across the floor.

The audience sat with baited breath and a touch of knuckle biting.

However, much to the dismay of the silent and shocked crowd, a quick recovery was made.

Sure, they were a bit disheveled. Sure, they had to make due with broken do-dads and ruffled boas. Sure, they had to rustle up some quick thinking and unrehearsed hustling.

But, even in a pink, Princess playroom, the show must go on.

Encore!

A little dip

It’s been years since I’ve done anything of the sort.

But, now that I’ve given it a whirl, I’m in.

I spent the better half of the morning properly waterlogging the lower half of my body in our new wading pool in the backyard.

When my daughters first invited me into the inflatable hippo pool for a dip, I waved it off. I assumed there wasn’t room. Surely I’d manage to pop the poor thing. I shuddered at the thought of a neighbor peeking over the fence to discover me lodged between a water toy and a toddler, all white, jiggly and fully exposed.

Then, something overcame me. I threw my inhibitions to the wind and joined in the splashy, summery fun. The gals moved over and seemed to rather enjoy using my belly as a dock for their sailboats.

Seems things work out better when you sprinkle a little fun in your day….between the loads of laundry, I mean.

Gotta try it more often.

Go ahead. Dare ya.