Quotable Quotes Week of August 2nd, 2009

Tonight we pulled up into the drive after dark. As we were unloading everyone Clint noticed a varmint in front of the garage hiding in some junk. He headed for the house to get his gun thinking it was a coon. We have declared war on the coons. We have not gotten one ear, not ONE EAR of corn from our garden this summer and the coons are fat and sassy. Charlie said, "What's Daddy gonna do?" I said, "He's gonna shoot it. Right in the ole kisseroo." Now I use that phrase quite a bit, "right in the ole kisseroo" and apparently Dalton does not like it because he turned around with his bony finger shaking at my face and said, "You need to stop saying that. It is a bad word and you need to stop saying it." I said, "Which word is a bad word?" He said, "Kisseroo". Of course I asked him at that point, "What is bad about it?" And he responded by pointing to his little toosh and said, "You know. It's a bad word for bottom." Well, I nearly rolled in the grass laughing but of course that wouldn't be prudent considering it was after dark and our yard seems to be a breeding ground for all sorts of snakes and other creepy crawlies. Dalton was indignant at that point and made some reference to the fact that one time when I used it I swatted someone on the rear as I said it. He took his attitude out on the varmint which ended up being an oppossum. Dad let him shoot it and yes, he did shoot it right in the ole kisseroo.....the real one. Thankfully my version is not an eye witness account but believe me, he retold it enough that I have a mental picture. My son, the marksman.

O.K. Here's one about my precious, adoreable, cutie - petootie blond haired farm girl. How many of you can say that you carried the slop bucket out the back door at the tender age of 4 sweetly calling, "Here hoggie, hoggie, hoggie!" Didn't think so. We've affectionately named our two feeder pigs "Hamsteak" and "Sausage Patty". But you can just call them, "Hoggie, hoggie."

On to Charlie and last night's supper. Mr. Charlie boy is a scrawny pants because he refuses to eat unless he is completely starving. Some of us live to eat, Charlie eats to live. Last night I fixed a really nice meal and we were eating it on our new picnic table courtesy of "aunt" Connie and "uncle" Terry - thank you very much. :-) After countless attempts to get Charlie to eat he finally said, "I can't. My feelings are hurting." I asked him to point to his feelings. Yep, sure enough. Charlie's feelings are located right behind his belly button. Who knew?

Finally, we end with a Luke tale. Always. Last night as we were saying prayers, we noticed that Dalton was rather sullen. He was upset and trying, as usual, to hide his feelings just enough that someone would notice. I took the bait and began the prying game to figure out what was bothering him. It finally came out that he was upset with Luke. If you don't know our children personally then here's a short rundown of their personality types. Dalton and Mary Caroline are super - sensitive. Luke is a tormentor and likes to push every button they've got. Charlie just throws himself down in a pile and screams his head off and usually no one notices. I'm not sure if he will outgrow that or if it's just part of being the youngest. Time shall tell. Back to the story. Dalton was upset because Luke had been acting really mean to him and he was tired of it. And he also was, sniff - sniff, calling Dalton names. "What names?", I asked. He didn't want to say but finally he whispered, "Baby Winker". Obviously I asked for that one again. I had to get Clint involved on this one for the sheer fact that Dalton was clearly emotionally wounded and I was choking trying not to laugh in his face. Unfortunately, my husband has no higher maturity level than myself. When Dalton told him, he looked at me and we both lost it. Poor Dalton. He obviously got mad at both of us and we couldn't get it under control. We finally regained our composure and had a nice, spiritual talk with him about forgiveness and walking away and bullies, ect. And then we sent him to bed. Now, whenever one of us gets miffed at the other we say, "Stop it you baby winker." Seriously, does anybody know where he came up with that one? A movie? He did just spend 5 days at Grandma's house. I'll have to ask her if she's heard of it. The best part was we asked him how long Luke had been being mean to him and he replied, "Since, like, when I was 6." Dalton is 8! He's got a long, long way to go. Clint told him to walk away. Dalton said, "To where?! He lives in my room!!!" Oh, the joys of childhood and sibling rivarly. Speaking of, I'm awfully glad I don't live with my siblings anymore.....they'd vote me off the island. Or smack me in the ole kisseroo.

Well, that's all I've got for tonight with the funny stories. By this time tomorrow I should have another 2-3 pages. I really do need to write a book and make a million bucks. Someone's gotta pay to butcher the "hoggie, hoggies".

Good night you buncha baby winkers.
I digress,
Margie