The Giant Squid Head Upset

Last week (Wednesday August 4th to be precise) when we sat down to dinner, Kurt turned on the show, “The Big Bang Theory” to which his friend, my apparent mortal enemy, introduced him. Yes, the show is hilarious, but sometimes I’d rather escape from reality and not live through the painful parts over and over again. I swear the writers of the show have been following Kurt throughout his life. By my estimation, the show is really a spinoff of the movie, “The Truman Show”.

In general, Kurt loves the technical accuracy of the jokes, but the episode we watched on that particular evening made a huge flaw. Really, it was a tiny flaw, but because it upset Kurt, we can both agree that it was a huge flaw. We were watching the second season episode, “The Dead Hooker Juxtaposition”. In that episode, Sheldon observes that Penny is mimicking the new tenant. Sheldon says, “Oh, mimicry. I enjoy mimicry. I’ve been working on Admiral Ackbar from Return of the Jedi. “It’s a trap!” You have to imagine me with a giant squid head.” At this point Kurt’s eyes became huge.

This was the first time he had ever noticed a “gross error” in one of their geek references. As Kurt continued to fill his lungs with air, thereby removing most of the oxygen from the room, even Sophia noticed that a lecture was fast approaching. Before he had fully recovered from the shock of such a grave mistake enough to begin speaking Sophia shushed him. “Shshshshsssshhh,” she said with her finger to her lips. All I can say is at least I have a little ally.

Even though I didn’t care Kurt, as usual, explained in even greater detail than necessary what horrible atrocity had occurred. Apparently Admiral Ackbar is a member of the Mon Calamari race, a race evolved from salmon. The other race natives to planet Mon Calamari, the Quarren, evolved from squid.

I was on a hunt for a suitable dress for Sophia’s upcoming birthday pictures when I passed by the bath time isle. The only toys I’ve ever given her for bath time were some foam letters and stacking cups which all fit neatly in a mesh bag that drains nicely and prevents mold. I never bought more than that because I didn’t want a bathroom bursting with bath crap and the majority of Sophia’s bathing is done in the showers at the swimming pool. For some odd reason I thought it was time to add a little more to the bath toy collection so I bought a Crayola set that includes paint, markers, and washable crayons with a case that looks like a crab.

On Sunday, she used them for the first time. I presented them to her and said that they were special crayons she could use on the wall. “On the wall?” she repeated with doubt. Ha! That’s my girl. “Yes, but only in the bathtub.” I told her. I used one of the paints to show her how they worked and then she went to town. Paint all over the shower walls and tub. After a while, she asked me for soap. I figured it was time for a picture after seeing the walls, but when I came back with the camera, I was too late. Sophia had soaped up her washcloth and was now wiping the walls clean. It’s disturbing how much she’s like me.

Last week when I told a friend that I was taking Sophia to the park for the day, she suggested I bring my camera because I hadn’t sent her pictures in a while, so I did. The only thing is I had a hard time taking any pictures of the daredevil that day. Going down the slide face first was the least crazy new thing she did.

That day she also decided to try going down the firefighter pole without me standing nearby. I saw her stand on the edge and lean out as she usually does to yell out to me, but then unlike her usual, she reached for the pole. “WAIT!” I shouted, “Let me help you.” I about had a heart attack. Thankfully the little power ranger that could is at least obedient and waited for her mother to waddle over to her. I helped her hang onto the pole and showed her how to wrap her legs around it. She had watched enough other kids do it that she had the basic idea, but I wanted to be there to make sure she didn’t bounce her head off the ground.

She slid down the pole about three times and each time I held on and guided her down a little less. The fourth time the super monkey just held the pole tightly, lingered at the top, and then came down slowly…hand under hand. Holy fucking shit she is a strong little monkey! She did that another couple of times just to show off.

Last week, after playing in the sunny park for a few hours I suggested to Sophia that we go to the water park area. She agreed. I wasn’t sure that I would end up there or that she would want to go to the water park part so I didn’t bother bringing her swimsuit, besides she’s two. Underwear work just fine at that age.

The previous week we had gone to the Bite of Seattle with Kurt and he had taken Sophia to the fountain there. She loved it. I thought that she might run around on her own here, but no. I had to do the same as Kurt did there and pick her up to get her wet. Not getting me equally wet was a challenge.

It had been quite a long day at the park so I asked her if she was ready to go and surprisingly she was. But she didn’t want to get dressed again. Underwear girl walked through the entire park. After walking through all the grassed area we reached the part of the paved parking lot we would need to cross to reach our truck. “Let’s put your shoes on.” I told her.

She shook her head, “No”

“The pavement is going to be hot on your feet, let’s get your shoes on.”

Again, she shook her head, “No”

“Do you want me to carry you across?”

“No,” she signaled again.

Ok, fine, have it your way. We took about five steps and I saw a worried look come across her face. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, peh-weez” she said reaching up.

Once in the truck she piled all the toys she insisted on bringing with her, but I had insisted needed to stay in the vehicle, on top of her. I bucked her in, walked around the truck to the driver’s side, and climbed in. She had arranged all her toys, just so, and was talking on her old school Fisher Price chatter phone with the old rotary dial. As I backed out of the parking spot and headed out of the lot I hear her say into the little red handset, “Bo, Moose, n’fend-EE, n’phone”. She was listing all the items she had brought with her, Bear, Moose, her blanket ‘friend’, and the phone. Then she said, “momma dw-eye-vin, pay pah-wk, HOT FEETIES!”.

Sophia has problems pronouncing her “L’s”, and “R’s” but she can hear the difference in the way we say words and the way she says them. A few weeks ago before our July heat wave, which never hits on the weekend of the 4th, we did have a few nice days scattered around June. On one of those weekend days Kurt wore shorts with his motorcycle T-shirt. Sophia, displaying her powers of toddler observation pointed at Kurt’s black shirt and said, “bak shoot”.

“Yes, I’m wearing a black shirt” Kurt replied.

“gween shoots” She said pointing to his shorts.

“Close, sh-OR-tz. This is a black sh-IRT, and these are green sh-OR-tz.”

Sophia cocked her head like any confused pup, thought for a moment, furrowed her brows, and finally said, “gween PANTS” with attitude.

“What’s the special occasion?”
Dumbfounded he hesitantly said, “none”.
“I smell aftershave. You only shave on Sunday nights and it’s Wednesday.”
Laughing, “Tomorrow they’re taking pictures. I’m even going to wear my wedding tuxedo.”
“Did your boss tell you to not wear a t-shirt?”
“No, but he asked that I not wear a competitor’s shirt”

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

I received two prepaid postage envelops with the junk mail today. I use them to return junk mail. “Do you have anything you want to send back to Capital One?” I asked waving the envelopes.

“Yeah, I have to take a shit.”

“Ok but I’m going to make you the one to lick the envelope.”

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

Thursday last week, Kurt took Sophia for a walk around the block and at thirty-one months, she finally uttered her first three-word phrase. She said it four times on their walk. Kurt came home and asked me, “Have you been brainwashing our daughter?”

“Uh, no, why?”

Her first phrase was, “I want puppy.” And she really hasn’t let up on the topic either.

“What age did we stipulate for the trust fund?”

“Twenty-five, I remember because we wanted her to live a little before receiving money so she doesn’t just blow it on things like fur necklaces.”

*blink blink blink*
“Fur necklaces? It’s a good thing I’m not into jewelry. You would really suck at picking anything good.”

Flash Fiction Friday is hosted by g-man. You may also visit Flash Fiction Friday 55′s, a blog dedicated to hosting 55 Flash Fiction Friday posts.

I had a very stuffed up nose a couple weeks ago. I chalked it up to a cedar allergy since Kurt and I had been working in the yard that weekend. I was clearing all the cedar crap that has fallen in the last uumm six years. I don’t normally have any sort of allergy problem but this was the fourth time this year I had a “cold” but wasn’t really sick. All I had was a serial sneezes and a stuffy nose. This last time the stuffy nose just never went away. I was a mouth breather for quite a while. I even tried using a Neti Pot, which I imagine feels similar to water boarding. I kept sneezing and my sinuses clogged right up again within minutes.

A few friends on FaceBook told me that the Neti Pot only works after multiple times and was encouraged to give it another go. Kurt told me the Neti Pot only works when secrets are shouted out like, “Osama is in the cave!” I tried the second time and it merely resulted in my sneezing salt water until I couldn’t breathe, again. Is there a way to convert FaceBook friends to an enemy list?

I later learned that I am pregnant, and pregnancy hormones can cause mucus membranes to swell. It’s likely that my pregnancy made me more sensitive to the allergens and just made the whole thing a more miserable experience.

I was pretty sure I was pregnant without even taking a test. I wasn’t even very late. I mean I’ve gone longer between cycles without being pregnant or even thinking that it was a possibility. Why was I so sure *this* time? Lemon Juice. There simply wasn’t enough citrus in the house. I didn’t have any food cravings quite so early with my pregnancy with Sophia, and nothing quite so intense. At first I squeezed some lime juice on snacks that I normally eat with added citrus and salt, but that wasn’t enough. I soon ran out of real limes and had to switch to bottled “Real Lemon Juice”. I didn’t dilute it, unless adding salt is considered diluting, I simply poured it into a glass and drank it.

I looked up food cravings and found that only about ten percent of preggos share my mouth-puckering craving, and another site suggested, “adding a little lemon juice to fish in order to satiate the craving”. Clearly they don’t understand the meaning of “craving”, but Costco certainly does. Only Costco knows that one 48-ounce bottle of lemon juice just might not be enough, so they sell them in sets. I finished the first bottle in about three days and opened the second one. I think I finished about a quarter of it before the craving turned to total revulsion. I may need to throw out that second bottle as just looking at it makes my stomach turn.

Kurt watched in disgust as I downed a few glasses of lemon juice, “That can’t be good for you, do you know how much acid is in that?”

“Yes,” pointing to my glass, “about this much”.