Uncle Roger's Notebooks of Daily Life
My life is, to me, ripe with frequent challenges, occasional successes, spontaneous laughter, adequate tears, and enough *life* to last me a lifetime. To you, however, it surely seems most pedestrian. And therefore, I recycle the name I used previously and call this my Notebooks of Daily Life. Daily, because it's everyday in nature, ordinary. These conglomeration of events that are my life are of interest to me because I live it, perhaps mildly so to those who are touched by it, and could only be of perverse, morbid curiosity to anyone else. Yet, I offer them here nonetheless. Make of them what you will, and perhaps you can learn from my mistakes.
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Thursday, March 09, 2006
No more Bubble Boy. Jared is growing up.
When Jared has school, I take him in the shower with me in the morning. I use the Johnson's baby soap on him, with a bath pouf -- a ball of light lacy fabric that builds up a great lather. I would assume an effeminate German accent, kind of a cross between Dieter of Sprockets and Heimlich, the caterpillar from A Bug's Life, and ask "Ooh, Ver is mein booble boy?".
This would cause Jared to squeal and dance up and down, calling "here I am, here I am!" I would then proceed to soap him up: "Oh, vee haf ze booble arm, and another booble arm, and ze booble back," etc. This, of course, was then followed by numerous duckfarts for added giggles.
Today, however, he told me he didn't "want any Bubble Boy". I think Bubble Boy is no more.
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[ Posted: 20:00 | home | print ] |
We call them foo-foos. The girls have their own and they still love them, bubbles and all. We call everything that's fancy and/or smells good a foo-foo. Wonder if the Volvo lady ever found the guy that hit her car. I don't understand some people. |
| Posted by ann adams |