#101 When Is Violence Cute?

Not long ago Brecken and I were playing with Jack. He happens to be completely adorable. Being thus overcome by his baby-charm Brecken exclaimed in her high-pitched, mock baby voice, "Oh! You're so cute! I just want to rip your arms off and punch you in the face!"

Ummmm. Yes. I was dumbfounded. Horror struck, really. But her explanation pacified me. Apparently phrases like, "You're so cute I could eat you up, " and, "I just want to pinch your cheeks," when taken literally, have a violent tenor to them. So the assumption was: the more violent the phrase--the cuter the baby. If I had a Cute/Disturbing Things blog, I would post it there. But as I do get a slight chuckle out of this... I'll post it here.

#100 Granola Bars

For a little while I thought post Number 100 would have to be something big; I gave up on that idea. Mildly cute will do.

Taylor came in the kitchen today and asked for a, "Gorilla Bar." A big, fuzzy feeling filled my heart thinking of how cute that is to me. It was followed by a slight twinge of guilt that I refuse to teach her the correct term (going so far as to prohibit Brecken from correcting her also). Even Hallie, the three year old, can at least call it a "Granilla Bar." Which is perhaps why I am clinging to the cuteness of "Gorilla." I hope she never learns :)


After consideration, maybe when she's fifteen I'll want her calling it a "granola bar."

#99 Popping

In our house we are pretty discrete when it comes to discussing the passing of gas. I know, several readers will be rolling their eyes right now--feel free. But because of the lack of vocabulary in this department (we simply call it, "passing gas" or every once in a while you might hear the word, "stinker") it was adorably funny to me when I picked Hallie up--her bodily functions overtook her--and she laughed then said, "I popped!"

It's much cuter to let them come up with their own terms ;) I'm rather fond of, "popped," but strictly as a term--not as a verb.

#98 The Truth About Sharing

It's no secret that when children spend prolonged amounts of time together, it becomes difficult to maintain steady feelings of love and harmony; such was the case when we had the cousins over. Just before bedtime love and harmony were nowhere to be found. To restore such feelings I mandated that we would play "Say Something Nice Spin the Bottle." The rules were simple: You spin the bottle--it points to someone--you say something nice about them.

It was James' turn and the bottle he spun pointed to Hallie. So he said what the four previous children had said about each other, "Ummmm.... she's cute," long pause, "she's nice," another pause, "and she shares."

Hallie retorted in a sour tone, "Pfff. I don't share."

Oh, Hallie.