Sunday, July 02, 2006

I Got Nothing For Ya

Not a thing. Nothing funny or cool happened today. Nothing funny or cool enough to write about, anyway. In any event, I did the following things:

1. Thought about Aaron Spelling's influence on my childhood. Wow. One man, so many craptastic TV shows that I positively DEVOURED as a kid, especially Charlie's Angels. I knew in my heart I was Sabrina, but I always got to be Jill or Chris simply because all of my friends were brunettes and could not, we all agreed, accurately inhabit the roles of Jill or Chris on a neighborhood street in 1979 Scotland. No sir; we were purists. Sometimes it paid to be The Blond, except for the time I was told loudly at recess by a brunette in 5th grade that I had been woefully miscast as the dark-haired Lucy Van Pelt in my elementary school's Christmas Glee Club pageant presentation of "You're A Good Man Charlie Brown." Helloooo?! It's not like the kid playing Charlie Brown was actually chubby and bald with one little curly-que of hair on his head! Why the drama over the blond thing?! B*tches, man! B&tches!

2. Visited the National Building Museum, an attraction I would never otherwise have cared about but for their fantastic (now hopefully permanent) exhibit called the "Building Zone." It's a room with a little house, tons of building blocks, kiddie woodworking bench, tonka trucks, kiddie tool belts, and a little pillow-and-rug area to read books about architecture and construction. The majority of DC denizens have not yet discovered this gold nugget, so there are usually max 5 kids in the room at a time. It also has the most amazing "great hall" where The Bambina and I sit on a bench and have a snack while enjoying the indoor fountain. If you come to DC, do not miss this gem of a museum, which I have to say, has been incredibly smart about the Building Zone. It has brought people like me, who otherwise would never have thought it interesting or necessary to visit a museum about architecture and buildings, into the museum, into the gift shop with my wallet out, and into exhibits like "The Green House," "Jewish Washington" and "Newer Orleans" that turned out to be fantastic. Just my plug for a great way to have 2 hours with a kid fly by, especially when it's 95 degrees and 100% humidity outside.

3. Confirmed that I have given my daughter OCD. Now that she is using the potty rather than diapers, we have entered a whole new world of public toilet visitation. When I hoped for a time of dry diapers and "big girl underpants" I failed to grasp the coming necessity of using public lavatories in unpleasant surroundings when said "big girl" would hear nature's call. The number of times in a rest area or--worse--a Target that she has reached her hand into the toilet bowl or put her hand on the flusher or put her hand on the lock that (for whatever reason of "safekeeping") locks the used feminine products into that metal box on the wall, would make you weep. So I started telling her that public toilets are dirty and that we shouldn't touch ANYTHING. I showed her my well-honed "flush with the foot" move as well as the "open door with hand wrapped in toilet paper" move as evidence of the "no touch" policy. This was all well and good in terms of having her stop putting her hands on the bowl itself, but I never imagined that she'd internalize it all so soon. Today at aforementioned Building Museum, Bambina and I went to the potty. We walked into the stall and I heard a little voice say, "Dirty! dirty! dirty! No no no!" Followed by her lifting her little foot up in the air in an attempt to flush the loo sans hands. My first instinct was to say, "Yes! good girl! Never touch ANYTHING! You are such a smart girl!" My second instinct was to feel bad for giving her germ phobia to such a degree that she would try to foot tackle a flush handle a full two feet above her. As I momentarily pondered the possibility that I had perhaps gone too far in my desire to keep her from eating e.coli off a commode, the two-year old in her proved once again to be strong enough to resist even my most fervent attempts at lesson-teaching: She started singing, "dirtydirtydirtynonodirty!" while gleefully rubbing her hands all over the entire stall wall, looking directly at me and laughing.

4. Bleached my kid's hands.

5. Just kidding.

6. Went to bed.
Night night, my friends!


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