"How come you never wear any of these uber cute sweaters I bought you at D.I.?" I asked her as we leaned over the sink together applying our make-up.
"I'm waiting for it to get cold," she said.
What a sassy pants!
But no worries, I didn't flinch or bat an eyeball or spray Windex in her face or anything. I was a picture of poise.
You know why? Because I am so done telling my kids what to wear and what not to wear. If my daughter wants to wear her fuzzy house slippers to Young Women's and to parties and movies and basketball games, that's her prerogative. (No, I didn't spell that wrong, you just say it wrong.)
And anyways, as long as they're not getting skin cancer or cavities, then whatever!
That's what I always say (now that I'm on valium).
(j/k peeps! I'm not on valium) (I meant to say, now that I'm on helium).
But don't kids just say the darndest things?
Like last week my daughter told me that she thinks the young women in the ward are really going to like me as their prezident.
"Really? You think so? Really? How come? How come? How come?" I asked.
"Because you're more like a teenager than I am," she said.
Hmmmm . . .
Then yesterday one of my twins asked me how old I am. I told him I was forty, plus two.
"FORTY TWO!???" He said, his chin hitting the floor. "You don't look FORTY TWO!"
"Really? You think so? Really?" I said.
"Really," he said. "You look THIRTY EIGHT."
Hmmmm . . .
But last night was thee beeessst, as Nacho Libre would say. Last night, over dinner, we were discussing this year's History Day theme, which is Innovation in History, and my kids were throwing out topic ideas.
"Louie Armstrong would be good," I said.
Louie Armstrong?" my daughter said. "The bike rider?"
I practically choked on my Costco rotisserie chicken from LOLing.
"That's Lance Armstrong," said my hub.
"Louie Armstrong is the guy who landed on the moon," said one of my twins.
More choking and LOLing.
"That's Neil Armstrong," said my hub.
"Louie Armstrong is the father of Big Band Jazz," I finally said.
"That's not Louie Armstrong," my thirteen year old son--who just so happened to win 2nd place at the National History Day competition last year--said. "That's Duke Ellington."
Hmmmm . . .
I guess mom's sometimes say the darndest things too.