[Editor’s Note: In Blog This Mom! posts, Laura is called by her real life name, Laura. But in real life, for years now, Laura has referred to herself as The Rat, and talks about herself in third person. Kind of like Bossy, Mrs. G., and The Matron, except that Laura does it in real life. All the time. Laura will say things to me such as, “The Rat wants mint-chip ice cream.” And if I tell her that she has to wait until after dinner? Laura will say, “The Rat is furious.” Because katydidnot refers on her blog to her eight-year-old daughter as “The Girl,” Laura would like to be called “The Rat” on my blog. I aim to please. At least for purposes of this post.]
So . . . The Rat and The Girl recently had a play date and sleepover, during which Blog This Mom! sent email updates to katydidnot. Here are those emails, all cut-and-pasted and smooshed together in chronologicalish order:
From: Blog This Mom!
Subject: The Girl and The Rat at Camp Blog This Mom!
What’s Up: The Girl and The Rat’s first stop was at Coffee Bean for water and muffins because The Rat’s mother failed to feed her breakfast before picking up The Girl. The Girl reported that she had been fed two Pop-Tarts and a piece of cheese for breakfast. The Rat’s mother fell a little bit more in love with The Girl’s mother when she heard that. Then The Girl and The Rat went to Boomers for mini-golf and arcade games.
After the arcade, they went to Jamba Juice because The Rat said that the slushies at home are not good. Then they came home and had pizzadillas (cheese quesadilla with pizza sauce inside). Pizzadillas appeared to be a hit with The Girl. Now they are swimming. I am able to email and access the Internet poolside (it’s a hard knocks life, I know); so don’t worry, they are being supervised. And they are so happy. The Rat and The Girl are thriving at Camp Blog This Mom!
Note: The Girl and The Rat were covered in sunscreen before mini-golf and swimming. The Girl questioned why after mini-golf sunscreening was she being re-sunscreened for swimming. I told her that I couldn’t risk her getting a sunburn and having her mother blog about it. The Girl began to giggle. The Girl knows things. She is eight going on 40. But? She doesn’t know about pi. The Rat tried to explain pi to her. The Rat tried to help The Girl memorize the first 10 digits of pi. The Rat told The Girl that she had the first 10 digits memorized, but that she was working on memorizing the first 50. I told The Girl that she really only needed to know the first two, and not even for a while. The Girl may or may not come home and tell you that the “basic” of pi is 3.14. The Girl has been coached. The Rat is like that. The Rat is an eight-year-old Rain Man. The Girl didn’t seem to mind.
The Dirt: No matter what The Girl tries to tell you, I did not almost rear-end someone on the way to Boomers. I may or may not have almost almost rear-ended someone, but that is all. Now, I realize you don’t know me THAT well, and this might worry you. Please be assured (heh, me writing “please be assured” is probably freaking you out, huh?) that I have a perfect driving record. I have never had an accident or a ticket (well, two tickets within one week when I was 16 for rolling through stop signs, but I learned my lesson and that was sooooo 31 years ago). (Gawd, I’m old.) Anyway, I know you achieve balance through the law of averages, so the fact that I have this perfect driving record and may or may not have had to brake hard when the effer in front of me started to make a right-hand turn and then stopped, may or may not cause you to be concerned that my time for a perfect driving record is up. But I think the law of averages for my driving record is really in balance, if not my favor, because people regularly rear-end and broadside me while I’m sitting still in my car and minding my own business. Truthfully, I don’t think The Girl would have noticed the alleged almost almost rear-ending that may or may not have happened except that Courtney was in the car. Courtney is 22 and has opinions. And she’s verbal. So . . . this caused The Girl to comment upon times that her mother may or may not have hit cars or objects while driving. Then The Girl, in perhaps what was a moment of loyalty and/or guilt, defended her mother by saying that usually other people hit her mother’s car and her mother really doesn’t hit other people or things very often.
The Good: The Girl is so sweet and good-natured. She also knows how to win a serious number of prize tickets from a mere 16 tokens in an arcade. The Rat? Not so much. So The Girl gave The Rat a couple of her prizes. And when they got home? The Rat gave The Girl two of her really cool pens, including a prized Kooky Pen. Since they are already married as of the pre-Bossy-visit party at your place, I’d say this is the honeymoon.
They are trying to talk me into pitching a tent in the backyard and letting them sleep outside. They promised “lights out” by 9 P.M. They even put the promise in writing. There are four boys between the ages of seven and nineteen living next door, whose mother is insane and whose father has moved out. A locksmith was parked in their driveway just last week. And the next day? A police car was parked in the driveway, blocking the mother’s Mercedes. (Living next door to these people has been like watching an episode of Cops, but with better cars.) These people’s windows look down into our backyard. There will be no sleeping in a tent in the backyard under these circumstances. I might let them pitch the tent in The Rat’s room, but I have not mentioned this option to them. I’m
hoping they forget about the whole tent idea mulling it over.
The Mess Hall at Camp Blog This Mom!: Dinner began at 5:30 PM with a bowl of vanilla ice cream and rainbow sprinkles. Dessert was served at 6:30 PM, organic cheese pizza, organic rainbow fusilli pasta with fresh Parmesan cheese, organic broccoli, and organic carrots. Sensing a theme? Not so much? Okay then.
Bedtime update: The Rat and The Girl? They have matching duckie jammies. Who’d of thunk it?
And? Despite a very comfy full-size canopied bed in The Rat’s room, they have opted to sleep on the floor. The Girl and The Rat have made what appears to the naked eye to be a nest on the floor. (A Rat’s nest, if you will.) And they are nestled in. Very snug.
But don’t be fooled by your naked eye! The Rat and The Girl are actually sleeping in the first-class cabin of the airplane they built. On the floor. In The Rat’s bedroom.
The Rat and The Girl mapped out a flight plan.
They departed from Louisiana (where they live), had stopovers in Sacramento, Washington D.C. and then Cambridge (Massachusetts). Now they are on their way to Paris. In the first-class cabin. The one that they built on The Rat’s floor. They are reading with Itty Bitty book lights and whispering. And giggling. Just a bit. (Also, I should mention that they tried to get me to serve them dinner in the first-class cabin, on a little tray, but even I have my limits.)
The Morning News: The Rat and The Girl’s airplane landed at 9 AM in London (Read: They Slept In!). The overnight flight across the pond was smooth and uneventful save for one instance during the wee hours when a hot-pink electronic text messaging thing-a-ma-bobber (think Walkie Talkie, but it sends to and receives text messages from its matching hot-pink counterpart) beeped and woke up The Girl, and only The Girl, who said she went right back to sleep. (I think that the beeping might have been from another passenger summoning the flight attendant to bring another Bloody Mary, but I could be wrong.)
The Rat and The Girl were hungry for pancakes when they
woke up decided to land in London, which is the city famous for buttermilk pancakes, right?
So . . . they each had a bowl of organic cottage cheese, a bowl of organic pears and organic strawberries, a glass of organic unfiltered apple juice, and then . . . pancakes made from a box of Aunt Jemima Complete Buttermilk Pancake Mix. Sensing a theme? Not so much? Okay then. Oh, and the pancakes? Shaped like ducks. To match the duckie jammies.
After breakfast The Girl and The Rat boarded their airplane and flew to Paris. And then to Hawaii. They are now swimming in the Pacific Ocean, which happens to look at lot like my pool. Oh, and someone should probably tell The Rat that the word to shout when jumping into the “ocean” is not “Cowamunga!”
And then your head exploded. The end.
On another note, dear Blog This Mom! reader, Friday, August 1, is the last day to enter a comment here for a chance to win a fabulous BitchHer ’08 bag. On Friday, August 1, at 11:59 PM, PST,
Laura The Rat will pull one name from a hat! The lucky winner will carry the bag gage that the San Diego Blog Bitches carry.