My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Duh


I love this site. Especially when it gives me hilarious bits of conversation like this:

Mother, pointing at poster: Now, who has a hat?
Toddler: Keith Richards.
Mother: Yes, Keith Richards has a hat. Good observation!

Do you find that as funny as I do?


We had a small breakthrough yesterday. We never would have known about it if my husband hadn’t run into Dusty’s teacher in the hall when he was picking her up from the after-school program.

Dusty actually READ to her teacher yesterday. Outloud. Her teacher has been aware that Dusty knows how to read but hasn’t really been able to assess the extent to which she can because she’s been too shy to read to her.

Instead, the teacher has devised a number of other ways to find out including having Dusty read stories to herself and then answering a series of questions to test her comprehension.

Yesterday, Dusty finally read to her. I have no idea why she decided to because she never tells us things like this (and may not even be able to verbalize it) but we were all very glad to hear the news. Even Red joined in and shouted “hurray!” though she had no idea what she was happy about. Not that it matters. Sometimes toddlers are like dogs - they pick up on the general mood of the room and join in.


And now, we will discuss my “duhness.” I will refrain from calling myself stupid (I'll reserve that for others) but my duhness factor is scarily high these days.

Perhaps I’ve mentioned that Red, for reasons unknown (until now), was so very very happy to see that I made cheddar cheese muffins a week ago. “Cake, cake!” she shouted. She used to love eating muffins.

Used to. I broke off a piece of the muffin and gave it to her. She placed it on her lips and exclaimed, “Blech!” and threw it on the floor, disgusted and disappointed. WTF?

It’s all become clear to me. Maybe the blockage causing my duhness has been removed due to all the spinal manipulation I’ve been getting lately at the chiropractor/massage therapist office. But, I figured it out.

It is no coincidence that Red has been merrily singing the “Happy Birthday” song in the last week or so. Her class celebrated the birthday of one of their classmates. They had cupcakes.


Which look (minus the sugary topping) very much like...that's right, you guessed it...muffins.

Like I said: DUH!

All this time, Red’s been thinking I had cupcakes that were turning into disgusting muffins. That’s why she’s been saying “cake!” at every meal. Or, rather, she believes that anything in the shape of cupcakes must be cupcakes. Except that frustratingly mine were not! How dare I not provide her with cupcakes! How dare I produce some UNACCEPTABLE facsimile of the cupcake? I suck, I guess.

Sigh. The Duhness of Motherhood.


9:22 a.m. ::
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