Watch out, Aimee Mann

I want you to be my first rat
want you to be my horse
yeah, I can do it

You're gonna get scratched by the cat
want to be this way
you can
yes, sir, you can

Singin' in the shower again

-Lyrics by Bugglegirl, July 2009

Beauty school dropout

I know what you're thinking. But no, I'm not having a Britney moment. And my new vacuum cleaner, even though our romance is tenuous at best, is performing acceptably.

This, dear readers, is what happens when you entrust a four year old with a pair of child-safe scissors during quiet time. Fortunately, the hair is not her own; rather, Bugglegirl sheared it from the mane and tail of the fancy American Girl horse that she got for Christmas. She'd tried to conceal the evidence in her secret stash spot behind her toy basket, but the little tufts of black hair strewn about her beige carpeting betrayed her.

Me: What have you done?
Bugglegirl: Nothing, Mommy.
Me: Did you cut your horse's hair?
Bugglegirl: I made it pretty, see?
Me: Give me the scissors. Where is the hair?
Bugglegirl: Here.
Me: You know this hair will never grow back.
Bugglegirl: I know, Mommy. It will never grow back. It's OK.

Surprisingly, there's still a good deal of hair left on the horse, though now it's styled in an unattractive, asymmetrical blunt cut that might set Kelly Osbourne back a few hundred bucks.

Hmmm. . .beauty school. A double bonus: Not only could I blow the college fund on a downpayment on a Tuscan villa, but I'd have great hair - for free - doing it.

He's definitely Irish

The other day while cleaning my desk I came across this artistic specimen. I'd written on the back and set it aside to upload here back around St. Patrick's Day. Which was, alas, in March.


Bugglegirl: Look, Mom, he's coming down!
Me: Yeah! The leprechaun is sliding down the rainbow.
Bugglegirl: No, that's God.
Me: That's not a leprechaun?
Bugglegirl: No, that's God. And there's the pennies.
Me: God is going to slide into the pennies?
Bugglegirl: No. He's going to jump off right here.
Me: OK.