Apparently, I don't understand parenting in the context of quiet, imaginative play.

A couple of things worth noting today:


LOTS of you love McDonald's french fries, and the FREEDOM to steal them from your kid's happy meal.  Seriously, this is how women bond, and form friendships and win that damn prom queen title through good ol' fashioned personality.  Mostly, I think we agree that having someone else decide what we should feed our kids (and how much) feels like the worst kind of patronizing b-s.  Listen, I've bought into the trendy parenting hype ONE TOO MANY times to fall for this little hissy fit over french fries.  And in a STRANGE turn of events, I think the vegans are with me on this one...because I have it on good authority that McDonald's french fries are a vegan-approved food group.

Secondly.  Today is the first rainy day we've seen in quite some time, and my children have entertained themselves for HOURS (literally), building Lego creations together on our dining room table.  Three of my four children have never touched a Lego before in their lives, and now here we are, being all Swedish-Family-Robinson, and building small-scale shit, and being calm and appropriate and imaginative.  Nine and a half years, I have waited for this day, and it's freaking WEIRD and a little too quiet--like a dingo ate my baby or something.  This isn't what childhood looks like, or at least, it hasn't in our house--because (in my experience) childhood is loud and messy and caked in toothpaste and whining for the Wii and kicking the Candyland game board in a fit over the color purple and begging for cheap crap at the Dollar Store.  Quiet imaginative play = zombie apocalypse, I'm pretty sure.  But I'm gonna need to consult Tim Riggins on that one.


Last thing.  I FINALLY broke down and bought G another swim suit today; generally, I like to have 3-4 suits in our arsenal, but this year, G has sprouted out of everything she owns (making last year's suits...inappropriate).  I mention this, because I have been circling Target and Old Navy like a mental patient, just PRAYING for God to send me a cute polka-dotted number in turquoise, or maybe some muted rainbow stripes?  How about just a solid colored tankini (NOT in a neon shade), and I'll add my own monogram?  Shoot, I'm not picky, and really, I'd take ANYTHING that wasn't so bright it was visible from space, or tye-dyed, or with stomach cut-outs, or resembling a hooker's bikini.  And that doesn't exist this year, unless you sell your soul to mini Boden--and I just refuse to believe that I can't find anything CUTE for less than $30.  It's like a personal challenge, and I keep waiting for Target to come through with a late season, large, whimsical, floral print--but sadly, I've been forced to recognize that sometimes even Target gets it WAY wrong, and I have to settle for the fluorescent-pink, Old Navy bathing suit that is so damn bright, it burns my retinas a little.  Now typically, this would be the kind of thing that inspires my wrath, except that this week, I have the french fry debacle to consume me--and the universe has an amazing way of keeping me well rounded, you know?


Just keepin' it real, and pro-french-fry, and impossible to be ignored in a hot pink lycra, friends.