Humps, Hills, Whatever

Kendrie -- Day 356 OT

I went to bed fairly early last night and woke up feeling refreshed this morning. Funny how an extra hour or two of sleep can do that for a person. Rested and relaxed, I decided to do a little something “extra” for my kids today, just to show them how much I love them:



Really, it takes so little to make them happy, and arranging the chocolate chips into smiley faces is such a small thing to do.

So when Kellen walked in the kitchen this morning and sat down, I was expecting thanks and adoration. Instead, I was a little surprised to hear him bluntly ask, “What’s this?” I mean, isn’t it fairly obvious? *THIS* is a perfect example of motherly love and devotion, now sit down and enjoy it and thank your lucky stars you have such a fabulous mom. A mother who, obviously, stops at nothing to give her children the absolute best, as evidenced by the fine china and sterling silver I use at the breakfast table to serve my children. Try and control your jealousy, everyone who is reading this.

Instead of singing my praises, or even simply picking up the syrup, or his fork, he put his head in his hands, rested his head on the table, world-weary little man that he is, gave a great sigh, and said, “Thank **goodness** today is Hill Day.”

Hill Day? Hill Day? What the heck is Hill Day?

“Don’t you mean Hump Day?” I asked him.

“Uh, NO” he replied, with that good-heavens-my-mom-is-a-complete-idiot tone all children acquire as gifts on their sixth or seventh birthdays. “It’s HILL day today in the middle of the week …. Don’t you get it?? Wednesdays are at the TOP of the hill, and now for the rest of the week we are going DOWNHILL … get it? Hill Day?? Do you understand??”, rolling his eyes, obviously convinced I am too moronic to grasp the concept.

That boy better hush up tomorrow morning and eat his smiley face pancakes, is all I’ve got to say about it.

PS. Lisa, don’t feel bad, you’re not the first person to tell me that my site has reduced them to turning off thier computer speakers. I don’t know whether to be ashamed, or proud. :)

PSS. Amy in KY, fake baby, Fake!