Me: “What are you doing?”
Xavier: “Making a teeny tiny crossbow.”
Me: (pause) “What is this crossbow going to shoot?”
Me: “Are you pausing because you’re still trying to figure that part out, or because you’re trying to think of an answer that won’t piss me off?”
Me: “Throw it away.”
UPDATE: This thing is operational. Zombie apocalypse…BRING IT.
1. I’ve finally gotten what I always wanted for Mother’s Day…an indentured servant.
2. Also, the “magical bell” has Las Vegas written on it.
3. It just scored me a flavored seltzer, so this shit might ACTUALLY be magical. I’m reserving judgment until I can see if it also gets my toilets scrubbed and my dog washed.
In case you haven’t read it…last year’s Mother’s Day post, which was far better worded, and didn’t involve using my children as slaves.
Xavier: “If you have a poltergeist in your house…you leave the damn house. End of story…no movie needed.”
This all started because I texted this picture to Ryan, this morning.
Ryan: Ouch, she’s perfectly thin, but if he really wants to complain, she’s actually kind of old to be a Disney princess.
Me: Seriously. What was she? 23? Go retire, already, grandma.
Ryan: She was actually 19 when that scene was filmed. Star Wars nerd, here.
Me: I feel like I should be giving you a wedgie, for knowing that.
Ryan: I once got into a fight with someone over who knew more Star Wars trivia. We had a contest.
Ryan: You have to ask? Do I look like some scruffy nerf herder?
Me: Ummm…that answer really just leads to bigger questions.
(While giving an oral report on giraffes in preparation for our upcoming zoo trip.)
Student: “One interesting fact about giraffes is that they can fall in love…and they can be destroyed.”
Student: (looking at a student profile on my desk, with an ID picture) “Ooooooo, who is THIS? She is HOT!”
Me: (death stare) “That’s my DAUGHTER.”
Student: “Ohhhhhhh, yeaaaaaah….sorry about that.” (slinks away)
Tracy: “Okay, what’s up with those stupid herbs you bought me?”
Me: “Oh, my, God…are you okay? What happened?”
Tracy: “You know how supposedly we all have ten pounds of undigested meat, sitting in our colons?”
Tracy: “Well, I don’t, anymore.”
Me: “Well, that’s gotta make you feel better, right?”
Tracy: “I think I just shit a basilisk.”
Me: “This phone call is officially the ‘Chamber of No Secrets’.”