Monthly Archives: July 2012

Deep Thoughts

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We’re big fans of Jack Handey’s “Deep Thoughts” in this house. Too big of fans, actually.

So big that Piper has begun dropping “deep thoughts” as ice breakers when she meets new people. Yesterday we were waiting outside Sissy’s violin lesson when another student arrived early for her lesson. Piper introduced herself by asking if she could have some doritos from the stranger’s bag. The answer was ‘no.’ Then Piper said, “If you drop your keys in molten lava, let them go because, man, they’re gone.” The stranger just stared. There may have been a language barrier, too. “Deep thoughts” don’t translate that well.

Sometimes when Piper is sharing her “deep thoughts” with the world, she fudges the punchline a bit. Or she starts laughing so hard she can’t get the ending out. This happens all the time with her favorite: I hope if dogs take over the world, and they choose a king, they don’t just go by size, because I bet there are some Chihuahuas with some good ideas. Piper is usually drooling on herself in a fit of giggles and can’t get the “Chihuahuas” part out. She’s tried this one out while ordering from the menu when we’re out to dinner. People think she’s ordering dog. And that’s just not funny.

 

DeepThoughtsByJackHandey.com

Life Illustrated With Poetry

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Piper wrote her first poem today. It’s illustrated with a translation. If I ever needed confirmation that my children are plotting to keep me contained within the walls of this house so that they don’t have to share me with the world, I now have it. Piper put me in a box. Then she loved me. 

If you need more Life Illustrated, here you go:

Life Illustrated Part One

Life Illustrated Part Two

Life Illustrated Part Three

Life Illustrated Part Four

Life Illustrated Part Five

Life Illustrated Part Six

Life Illustrated Part Seven

Life Illustrated: Preschool Edition

Life Illustrated: The Seasons

Leash Laws

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Taking a Piper to the airport is a bit like bringing along a frisky cat. She darts under luggage racks and refuses to yield the aisle, even when a traveler is coming straight at her with rolling bags twice her size. She must touch and sometimes lick every germy surface. There’s so much open space in which to skip and frolic and cool moving escalators and belts. Makes me wish I had a kiddie leash. No judging here.

Even a trip to the bathroom is an adventure. While waiting in a long line in the ladies room, I bent down to check for shoes under the stalls.

“Mom,” Piper said, “I don’t think you’re supposed to look under there at the people. That’s what you always say.” I tried to explain that I was just assessing occupancy, but P had already moved on to her next observation. “Look! Somebody thinks their luggage needs to go potty, too!”

Spy Kid

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A conversation from our metro ride last night:

“Can you be a spy for a job, Mom?”

“Yes. You can, Piper.”

“Do you have to go to a spy school?”

“You do. There’s a spy school right here in D.C.”

“Good. ‘Cuz I could still be close to you when I’m a spy.”

“I think they want you to stay at your spy school while you’re learning to spy. Maybe we could have lunch, though.”

“Can you spy on your own house?”

“I suppose. It may be boring, though.”

“Okay. I don’t want a house anyway. I want to live in a hotel. And be a spy.”

Stuck in a Compromising Position

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Piper got stuck today under her bed. Naked. “I was just trying to clean under here!” she claimed when I found her bare booty caught in the slats of her bunk bed. She wiggled like a worm trying to free herself. It wasn’t pretty but it was entertaining.

Why was she wearing her birthday suit, you ask? Good question. I’d showered her post pool and she said she needed time to “air out.” Her room also needed cleaning so the two activities logically fit together. Until she got stuck. Naked.

“Fiddlesticks!” Piper yelled when she realized she was truly jammed in under the bed. “Oh, fiddlesticks!” she said again as I coaxed her exposed limb by exposed limb out. “Ah, air!” she celebrated when she finally bounced up from her confinement and examined herself for splinters. Then she put her hands on her hips and proclaimed “Fiddlesticks!” one more time and took a victory lap. Naked, of course.

Do You Want Fries With That?

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We were downtown last weekend visiting Grumpy Naked Guy and drove by a park where a soup kitchen was serving a meal. The line for food was long and in Piper world, that must mean something good.

“What’s the big line for?” she asked.

“It looks like they’re feeding people,” I said.

“Why are they feeding people?”

“Because they’re hungry,” I explained.

“I’d like a chocolate milkshake, please.”

 

Grumpy Naked Guy

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Grumpy Naked Guy lives in a corner of the Hirshhorn Museum in Downtown D.C.

Piper may be his biggest fan.

She does wonder sometimes why he’s so darn grumpy. That he’s enormous and nude doesn’t phase a Piper at all.

“Why’s Grumpy Naked Guy so grumpy?” Piper asked.

“Maybe because he forgot his underwear?” Daddy suggested.

“Nah. That’s not it.”

“Maybe he’s cold?” I said.

“Nope. Naked isn’t so cold.” Piper does speak from experience.

She studied Grumpy Naked Guy some more. You really can’t help but stare. Especially in certain parts.

“Maybe he just doesn’t like modern art,” Piper finally concluded.

Letter to a Commenter

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Piper’s playmate, funny guy John Clark, is sharing his private letters with the world, including this letter he wrote to Piper’s Daddy. Piper adores John Clark because he’s very, very tall and he married a poet. Who does that? Read on to find out!

John W Clark's avatarThe Private Letters of John W. Clark

Dear Joe Young, the Commenter Who Keeps Asking for a Personalized Letter:

I’m only writing this to put an end to the calls, the letters, and the banners-trailing-planes, although the last one—“Write me or the pilot gets it”—was kind of clever, if alarming.

But the gifts need to stop, seriously. I don’t need Montreal Expos season tickets. I don’t have any use for a Thermos full of uranium. And the Chris Brown-gram (where Chris Brown broke into my apartment, sang a song, and punched me in the face) was really upsetting.

On second thought, this letter is a bad idea.

I can’t establish a precedent where readers can bribe, cajole, or punch me into writing them a letter, no matter how many times they tell PETA that I’m running a cat slaughterhouse in my second bedroom (the protestors are demanding to use our restroom, by the way).

So I’m going…

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Guest Blogger: Sissy

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Sissy is guest blogging today!  Here she is:

During lunch yesterday, Piper made this “very ‘aportant” announcement:

“Okay, everyone. See what I’m saying? After lunch, I will be presenting a lalaloopsy play or show. If you need to go to the bathroom, there’s potty breaks. The show is called ‘My Dream’ because me, Piper, dreamed it. I always wanted a lalaloopsy dream, and now I have one! There will be some sad parts, so stick with me. It will be fad-u-lous! Make sure to come!”

Piper promised a show in the afternoon. After a quick trip to the mall and then dinner, she informed us that the title of the show had miraculously changed to “The Five Little Fairies” and that the lalaloopsies were no longer the stars of the show. A lot can change in 4 hours. But when I reminded her of the show thirty minutes later, she replied in her sassiest voice, “Sissy, after this game! We only have three pigs left!” I didn’t ask her what that meant.

I finally got a five minute play out of her, but then there was yet another distraction. A dance party with Daddy sounded so much more fun.

“What happened to the play?” I asked Piper. “I’ve been waiting all day for the show.”

“Show? What show? We need you at the Dance Party! We can’t sing Firework!” she responded.

Apparently, the show must NOT go on.

Yelp!

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Do you Yelp? Piper’s Daddy is a true yelp devotee. He checks in all the time everywhere we go. He must know not only what other patrons think of the place but how his own rating is valued. If you’re as devoted as Piper’s Daddy, you, too, can earn a meaningless Yelp rank, such as Earl or Duke.  How do you achieve such Yelp status, you ask? I checked their website.

What is the “Yelp Elite Squad”?

The Yelp Elite Squad is our way of recognizing and rewarding yelpers who are active evangelists and role models, both on and off the site. Elite-worthiness is based on a number of things, including well-written reviews, a fleshed-out personal profile, an active voting and complimenting record, and playing nice with others. Members of the Elite Squad are designated by a shiny Elite badge on their account profile.

As an Elite badge carrying member of Yelp, Piper’s Daddy has risen to the ranks of Duke in our favorite restaurant and two local frozen yogurt establishments. We’re very proud.

Last night we went out to eat. Piper’s Daddy was logging on to Yelp in the car as we pulled into the parking lot. He’s a bit competitive, you see. There could be other restaurant patrons inside just waiting to knock him out of his well-earned Duke position. Piper knows how much it means to him.

“Daddy, did you Yelp?”

“I’m logging in right now. I’ll let you know,” he said.

“Are you the Duke?” Piper asked, excitedly.

“I think so. Just a minute.”

“Daddy, you can be the Duke of my love!”

With that kind of status, who needs Yelp?