It's been a crazy few days here at Chez Haggis, what with the flooding basement, ungrounded electricity making scary smoky smells, and random general homeowner dramatic events. Good thing we have Bambina to keep us smiling.
Her preschool had the "weddings" on Friday, where each kid paired up with another kid and got under the pretend chuppah (wedding canopy). Even though we thought it was a bit of dumb exercise since kids this age have no concept of marriage, Bambina thought it was so much fun except for one thing: "but Mama I wanted to marry a girl, not a boy."
Me: "Oh, they made you pair up with a boy? That's because most people who get married are a girl and a boy."
Bambina: "When I grow up I will marry a girl. Boys are yucky, especially 'Ando' because he always has runny boogers and then tries to hold my hand."
Me: "Sweet Girl, you go ahead and marry a girl then. Or you can decide not to get married at all. Boys can marry boys too, you know. Uncle E and his boyfriend are getting married this summer, remember? And your Uncle G and Uncle G are two boys married."
Bambina: "Yes Mama, boys should only marry boys and girls should only marry girls. And if I don't meet a girl to marry, I will marry you okay?"
Sounds like a plan to me.
And speaking of plans, on the topic of me being able to get out and about again, Bambina is focusing on our First Big Outing. The FBO, she and I have decided, will be to a coffeeshop. Now, when we were talking about this First Big Outing, Bambina felt strongly that she should be able to drink coffee with me due to the mammoth importance and significance of the event. After looking it up and finding that a sip or two of decaf coffee is harmless for a kid, I said, "Okay. You can have coffee at our FBO." Whoops and hollers and excitement ensued. And then we looked at the BBDD looking at me with some consternation and suspicion. I didn't realize it, but I guess I said out loud, "And Daddy gives Mama the hairy eyeball!" Fast forward weeks and we find out that she has been regaling relatives and friends and teachers with the following verbatim narrative: "And Mama and I will go out to a coffeeshop where we will sit at a big person table and talk about our day and she will drink coffee and I will drink coffee and Dada will give us the hairy eyeball." There is No Such Thing as a throwaway remark when a preschooler is present, is all I'm saying.
And in further Hairy Eyeball stories, Bambina and I were blowing up balloons yesterday and making them into weiner dogs. There was great excitement about the balloons because I have been unable to blow up any of her others for reasons of nausea. For whatever reason, the balloons she's had previously smell to me like chemotherapy and make me gag if I get near them. (I have a few random items that do this to me, which is a whole other post regarding how on God's green earth they are manufacturing products that remind a person of toxic infusions...) For my fellow chemo kids, you probably know what I'm saying, that it's not just the smell but the smell-as-taste. Like, when I was getting the chemo infused via IV, I could taste it too. It's weird and hard to explain, but it just permeated my entire sensory system leaving misery in its wake via taste, smell and sight. Which is why I couldn't get near Bambina's old balloons, even for a second without literally gagging. So these new ones are just plain old latex (watch for my lips to swell in 3, 2, 1...) without the added busulfan. So we were blowing into them with all of our might, but maybe because they were some kind of ersatz balloon material they were extremely difficult to blow up. The BBDD was outside trying to flood proof our home perimeter, but when he came in he found the following sorry scene: The two of us in hysterical laughing fits because we had both been blowing so hard on the balloons that we had both involuntarily farted within milliseconds of each other. All the BBDD could say while administering the aforementioned hairy eyeball was, "Stay classy, Mama. Stay classy."
Good advice indeed. :)