Conversations and Notes From Vacationland

From the road

*Mad calling Fynnie "Baby" incessantly*

*Fynnie fussing every single freaking time*

Tom: Maybe Fynnie doesn’t want to be called Baby anymore, Big Jet.

Mad: *blowing raspberries* Pshht!  She’s still in the Baby Fynnie seat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mad: I have to go potty!

Daddy: We’ll stop at the next off-ramp and find a potty.

Mad: *grunting* I pushed myself and got the poop out.

Mama: *silently laughing in the front passenger seat*

Daddy: Don’t push the poop out.  Hold it in.

Mad, proudly and coolly: I’m holding it in my pants.

I'm happy to report it was not a true statement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tom: Do you know what she’s doing now when she helps with laundry?

Me: ?

Tom: She’s turning them inside right.

Me: I taught her that.

*high five*

Tom: Mad, when you’re uh…

Mad: I’m not Madelyn.

Tom: Mad… er… Big Jet… I’m sorry.  Big Jet, when you’re six you’re going to take over doing all the laundry for the family.  How does that sound?

Mad: That sounds fine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tom, as we passed a slow, beat up motorhome: Can you be an outlaw and drive an RV? I mean, really, c’mon!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On location

How to stand out in a hip downtown restaurant, the kind that serves cauliflower soup and potato and leek pizzas?  Walk in carrying a potty seat adapter.  Nothing says suave and sophisticated like bright white plastic and a foam cushion with Sesame Street characters.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chris to Matt, pointing at the device that has just done something unexpected less than two feet from me:  Are you printing something?
Matt, looking slightly confused:  Uh, no.  I guess sometimes it just does that.  Like a test page or something.
Me: Um, actually, I just photocopied my butt.  It'll be printing a while.
Judy, laughing (thank god!):  Just like your father.  I assume she was talking to her sons about me being just like my father-in-law, but she could have been talking to me, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Note to self
Stray eyebrows, no tweezers = bad.