greenp

We sure do like potty humor at our house. Here are some jokes we told at dinner tonight. You may use them in your own families.

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Freep.
Freep who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
I need toop.
I need toop who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Smelleep.
Smelleep who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Runneep.
Runneep who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Cowp.
Cowp who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Lickup.
Lickup who?

It went on for some time, because we have good imaginations. By the end, Superman was just shouting, "POO!" and laughing himself sick. Feel free to add some variations of your own.

singing roll-a bowl-a ball a penny a pitch

Did you know that Pinga got her arm caught in the floor? Believe it. It happened. After she changed into a summery dress for her nap and ratted her hair up all nice.
Shh. Don't talk about the dirty mop boards. There used to be a pipe to a hair sink there, and I kept the hole in the floor in case Pinga can't make it to the bathroom during the night.

She makes me a lot tired. I think there should be a rule that if the child can get into and out of the car seat unassisted, they should be able to move up to the booster seat. Because this way is just a lot of yelling and pulling over to the side of the road for more yelling.

We went on a hike for Travis Sorenson Day that was fun and had a few scary drop-offs and even some snakes (non-venomous). The boys were little mountain goats and probably hiked twice as long as the rest of us did with all their back-and-forthing, like Tigger when Rabbit tries to lose him in the Hundred Acre Wood. Pinga liked being carried. She is at a birthday party right now, and I'm feeling much more friendly toward her.

it took long enough

I don't want to jinx it, and I know it's rude to brag, but Captain America's teacher sent us a note saying that he was receiving an award at school this morning, and I can't imagine they're doing anything other than making him the new principal. Yay!

the third annual travis sorenson day observed

Normally we have a cookout, but we're going to switch it up a little this year. On either Saturday or Monday our family will be doing a hike. Green Canyon? That hike across the street and down from us? Whatever it is, it will be easy because of the small children and lazy people on the trip, and we will be picnicking. Bring a picnic and join us for the festivities in honor of our friend and yours, Travis Sorenson. More details will be forthcoming.

spearmint, or fruit?

John: "Here's a picture of Jesus."
Pinga: "He's wet!"
John: "He's getting baptized. Do you know who else is going to be baptized?"
Pinga: "Gum."

it's a lovely eleven morning

A while ago I made up a genealogy game for our Lehi ward, and John is re-using it for work. He's copyrighting it for me, since it's some pretty great intellectual property, and he was wondering what to call it. He called it Family Connections, yawn, and I think--since it's a genealogy game and all--that it should be called Doing It. You know, like the song, "Genealogy, I am doing it, my genealogy . . ." John doesn't like that name, because he's a real stick in the mud. So we're naming it Aebleskiver Plunderschnecht.

I'm here to keep my eye on her

One of the things I love about living so close to my parents is my relationship with Troy. Because she's so much younger than me I was sort of that distant relative she saw every once in a while but didn't know very well. Now we're real, no-foolin' sisters who can say rude things to each other and still be friends! Case in point: our text conversation this afternoon.

Troy: "Hey, I can just cook dinner on Sunday. You guys can just bring like a salad or something."
Layne: "Troy, you can just say you hate my cooking."
Troy: "No, I love your cooking. I just wanted to help out."
Layne: "I promise I'm not going to bring anything weird."
Layne: "Except maybe bubble tea."
Troy: "Ew . . . gross, that's against my religion."
Layne: "You don't love my cooking, you liar. Anyway, it's just steak, so no big."
Troy: "Okay, well, I'm cooking something too, then (I don't like steak)."
Layne: "Of course you don't. Pretty, pretty princess."

Because I love her and forgive her for being part of this new generation that doesn't care if it misspells or doesn't punctuate correctly, I have corrected her texting errors.

We went on to have a discussion about her track meet (cancelled because of the freak armageddon storm we had) and parted on good terms after I used some dated gangsta slang.