Oink Oink and Moo Moo

Hmmm, I have this whole blog written, see below, but I suddenly remembered the sole picture on my camera since I promised myself I’d start taking more pictures of the kids… two, three, days ago. Can you see it? Am I performing miracles with my ability to manipulate this program yet? I came home from work and had to find daughter. She’d been hiding. I found her behind the only stack of boxes left in our new-to-me house. On the hardword floor, fast asleep, curled into a little ball. I just felt the need to share this. Now, on with the program.

My mother, while very loving, can be so mean. Yesterday she sent a package out to Squareboy. He’d begged her for his very own holy water, and she just happened to have a big, huge bottle from Lourdes. Have I mentioned we are Catholic? Anyway, yesterday the package arrived. Addressed to Squareboy. Daughter promptly burst into tears. Not to be politically incorrect, but girls are really more whiny, um, sensitive, than boys. She wanted a package. She ran out of the room to have a fit in her room… at least that’s a step in the right direction. Right?

She was back in two seconds. “Oma?!? Oma!?!?!” I swear that box smelled like she sprayed her perfume in it. The Oma smell permeated the room, the house, immediately. Daughter smelled it in her bedroom, all tears forgotten, and came tearing out looking for her Oma. Who was no where to be found. More tears. Damn girls.

Besides Squareboy’s holy water Oma had sent some stuffed animals. “Do they work?” She asked me this morning when I called to thank her. Yeah, they work. Dork. What you send us broken stuff now? Lovely.

“What do they say?”
“Oink, oink and moo moo.”

It was a pig and a cow. She burst out laughing so hard I can almost feel the tears coming out of her eyes through the phone. What the hell did she think a stuffed cow & pig would say? I never did find that one out because when I even mention the cow & the pig and she started giggling again. I had to bring her happiness down a level and comment on her meanness. I told her daughter had cried because squareboy got a package and she didn’t. Warm, fuzzy Oma feelings kicked right in, “Oooh, poor baby. But I sent her a toy too.” Then I had to explain daughter didn’t want the pig. I’m the pig lady. So the pig was mine. My mom was very sad about this until it was time to hang up. Instead of saying “Bye” I said “Oink, oink”. In between renewed hysterical, hicupping laughter she said “Moo, moo.”