All's Fair In Love And Chocolate

Some mini-posts, because I am tired.

1. Grace did not win her election for Student Council Vice-President. Our neighbor won, because he rapped his speech. I am proud of him for his creativity, but I'm glad that Grace didn't think of trying it...especially since I had to write her speech. (I tried letting her do it, but this is what she came up with: "Vote for me. If you want to, I mean. I'm sure that everyone else is great, too, so if you would rather vote for them it won't hurt my feelings." Obviously, assistance was needed.) She'll have to find someone cooler next year, because my rapping skillz are severely limited. Yo.

2. Remember when I mentioned in passing recently that I needed to tell you about my great sock buying adventure? Well, it wasn't actually an adventure, but there was sock browsing and purchasing, and great fun was had by all. We spent about thirty minutes staring at a wall of socks, trying to find some that would not become all holey after two weeks of wear, and trying to decide if all of the female's in my house should just buy one kind of sock and share, or if we should all have our separate socks even though we all wear the same size and I cannot be trusted to remember that Josie has the ankle socks with the grey toe and Grace has the ankle socks with the pink toe. How confusing is that? I hate socks.

Anyway, while we were in the middle of this riveting activity, our old Sunday School teacher came up behind me and apparently wanted to be all friendly and have a conversation and such, and do you know what I did? I proceeded to tell him all about our sock buying quandry, as if he cared. The poor man now knows all about the holes in our socks and why this is driving me crazy, and the fact that I hate matching socks and would really rather clean the toilets than do so. I'm thinking that he is very glad now that he is not our present Sunday School teacher.

Clearly, I am socially challenged.

I'm thinking that I should limit all of my human contact to what can be accomplished through the computer. At least then, someone can stop reading when I start babbling on about the merits of colored socks versus the practicality of just buying all white ones and throwing them all into a collective sock container and having the family forage for something to cover their feet.

Kind of like you all just probably did. Stop reading, I mean. Not stop looking for socks. Okay, maybe the written word is not working out for me so much anymore, either.

3. Owen came up to me yesterday and climbed into my lap. "Mama," he began, "I think we need some babies."

I fumbled around trying to think of a way to tell him that was just not happening , but how do you say that to a four-year-old? Finally, I said, "No, Owen...I think you're going to be my last baby."

"I don't know, Mama" he told me, patting my stomach. "You look like you might have a few in there that need to come out!"

If there was ever incentive for weight loss, your child thinking that you are about to give birth to a litter of babies is probably it. And now that I have reminded myself of this conversation by blogging about it, I'm going to get off of this computer and do some jumping jacks to work off the four cookies I just accidently ate. Ya'll pray I don't rupture anything.