Babysitting gems

  • Being a princess is just a free ticket to kiss anybody you want.
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  • I named this pole Mr. Pancake, Jr., after my iPad.
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  • Lightsabers are cool, because you can make them match your socks if you want to.
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  • Miss Chelsea, can I give you a hug so you can give it to Hannah when you go to Bluffton? And then can I give you one to keep for yourself?
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  • Justin Bieber is GROSS. and he looks like a GIRL. He's not even handsome, not even at all!
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  • The boys at school all thought that I liked them, and I don't, so me and my friends, we all started hugging them, and they got really scared and don't talk to us anymore.
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An excerpt from my Grandfather's personal narrative

  • When I was a kid, we swam in the Maumee River. It was damn disgusting, boy I tell you...I saw my first dead body that wasn't at a funeral there. I wasn't quite as unimpressed as I would come to be later in my youth. It had been in the water for quite some time...it was as brown as leather, and wrinkly as hell. I bet you I could have made a baseball glove outta his face...although...he probably woulda lost his head over it.

"Have I told you I love you yet today?"

It’s my dad’s birthday!  He’s something else.  Best dad.  

When I was little and he’d tell my brother and me to do our chores, we’d grumble and roll our eyes and just generally be twerps, and he’d hug us and ask us if he’d told us he loved us yet today.  It made doing the dishes seem like a lot less work.  

When I was 6, I got one of those round brushes stuck in my hair (I wanted to have curly hair, and, well, it got messy.  I’m pretty sure every girl who grew up with straight hair has had this happen to them).  My dad spent 4 hours with me, patiently tugging and coaxing the bristles from my hair.  He knew that it would break my little heart to chop off the hair I had been growing out.  

Every day in middle school, I’d slump (ha! scoliosis!) in from the bus, weary with the awfulness of adolescence, and there he’d be, with a cup of hot tea and ready to talk about my day (or just watch Gilmore Girls with me).  

He came to every choir, band, show choir, and theater performance, track meet, cross country race, and honors banquet for 12 years straight.  He’s a good guy to go on an international canoeing trip with.  We can have comfortable silences, or we can listen to NPR (hooray!).  He comes to pick me up when I want to go home at the drop of a hat, and, all in all, he’s everything a dad should be.  

I hardly even resent him for passing along his ginger skin genes without the lovely red headedness.

A Sorg’s a tough one to kill off.

My grandfather had a small stroke yesterday, but he’s feeling ok, and there isn’t any apparent damage.  How do we know?  The nurse asked him if he needed anything, and he replied “a beer”.  

I think my father’s father is too tough to die.  He’s going to outlive us all.  (And not out of spite, like my other grandpa, but rather because he’s not enough of a pansy to die of something as innocuous as old age.)