tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91746763541228895702024-03-05T16:52:54.406-05:00Daughter and DadA collection of passing conversations.MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-79913050484459225542012-06-07T17:30:00.000-04:002012-06-25T10:14:03.660-04:00I'll take the defibrillator to go, please.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>Driving to somewhere...</i><br />
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Daughter: "DADDY!, DADDY!"<br />
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Dad: "Good God, WHAT!? *swerves*<br />
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Daughter: DADDY! LOOK!<br />
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Dad: I can't! Hold on a second."<br />
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<i>*pulls over to the side of the road-car blares horn as it speeds by*</i><br />
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Dad: What is it?!<br />
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Daughter: "Pikachu can wear my sunglasses...."<br />
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Dad: <i>*heart racing* </i>"That's great...really great..."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-49415029565852513662012-05-12T07:28:00.001-04:002012-05-12T07:28:56.618-04:00Motormouth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5rUKDD0tJzlkbLWjGxYZCYZNmJTQa_db7RUHErrigg4WpkB2jnstV9m-jKxNGcXmtue94nn5r59DFYnYl7hx24XZIAN5Xa1jZm5pg4t8_VrEkT3jm6-zDFB4ZMaRNkz247R3mQvvARFt/s1600/c1x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5rUKDD0tJzlkbLWjGxYZCYZNmJTQa_db7RUHErrigg4WpkB2jnstV9m-jKxNGcXmtue94nn5r59DFYnYl7hx24XZIAN5Xa1jZm5pg4t8_VrEkT3jm6-zDFB4ZMaRNkz247R3mQvvARFt/s320/c1x.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>*Daughter comes out of her room after waking up and rubs her eyes*</i><br />
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Dad: "Morning, Kiddo"<br />
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Daughter: <i>*wraps arms around me and yawns*</i> "Why am I talking so much?"<br />
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Dad: ?????MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-36854983083828309602012-03-12T20:11:00.000-04:002012-03-14T17:17:17.234-04:00Don't be dissin' my tractin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtd5q2Ng0Xoba3bZiNSlnLOqtzKbbaqUCZV5r0bEeDB-DU8vmTDtOlytnV3EG7osad1Pmc2wH-V5N1gPVnPGb9VWRq7z0WE4rUY_fuCs2q1-6pC6UklmHrqOMxdShB4261SlKZHWZwM-a_/s1600/6962708373_38fc3b5bd2_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtd5q2Ng0Xoba3bZiNSlnLOqtzKbbaqUCZV5r0bEeDB-DU8vmTDtOlytnV3EG7osad1Pmc2wH-V5N1gPVnPGb9VWRq7z0WE4rUY_fuCs2q1-6pC6UklmHrqOMxdShB4261SlKZHWZwM-a_/s320/6962708373_38fc3b5bd2_b.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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Tellulah: <i>*dancing in the movie theatre at the end of a film we all recently saw.*</i><br />
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Daughter: <i>*slightly embarrassed grabs T by the arm and proceeds to pull her towards the exit*</i><br />
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Dad: "What?! No dancing?!"<br />
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Daughter: "We're out of here!"<br />
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Tellulah: "Maybe we should come to your school and dance for your class!?"<br />
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<i>*long pause.....*</i><br />
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Daughter: "No, because people will be tractin' on your dancing and not tractin' on their work!"MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-12744294603289793932012-03-02T11:30:00.002-05:002012-03-14T17:11:05.470-04:00Are you getting all this?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9ZgfmjXhLLI_PgcfUZjqM30ENihPThxOqCBryyZgl3xM_vfSX5P-MddLxqVislzpj30zcu5G82t42BqiMXfniyTN4U4inAUJvMabigg68SwNZRHO_EJRfpqWSAEshjkqJKuLqBz2kKd5/s1600/6806232874_2a8500a44d_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE9ZgfmjXhLLI_PgcfUZjqM30ENihPThxOqCBryyZgl3xM_vfSX5P-MddLxqVislzpj30zcu5G82t42BqiMXfniyTN4U4inAUJvMabigg68SwNZRHO_EJRfpqWSAEshjkqJKuLqBz2kKd5/s320/6806232874_2a8500a44d_b.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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I get into the car after filling it up, start up the car and slowly pull out into traffic...<br />
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Daughter: "Speaking of the hush puppies in my head, I really want some hush puppies!"<br />
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Dad: <i>*...blank stare...*</i> MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-29879371712392906922012-02-21T06:53:00.001-05:002012-03-14T17:20:38.035-04:00Further Adventures in Patient Coercion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2OfIo5bFfHpNk6lA6vxUrwjl-1HLf7caRwsdEc6eSwUP8XtZ9y7sY72Hv5Mo7r18KvZ8ags4pk6PZ7v77LlK8T4qEi_iXGnmROk18ASzuZZkcz3S2WulmZyXdWdKOJBPnSTiaJJEMrvMo/s1600/Photo+on+2012-02-21+at+06.39+%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2OfIo5bFfHpNk6lA6vxUrwjl-1HLf7caRwsdEc6eSwUP8XtZ9y7sY72Hv5Mo7r18KvZ8ags4pk6PZ7v77LlK8T4qEi_iXGnmROk18ASzuZZkcz3S2WulmZyXdWdKOJBPnSTiaJJEMrvMo/s320/Photo+on+2012-02-21+at+06.39+%232.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Coffee made, lunch packed, light is switched on and the words "it's time for school" are softly spoken, only to be met wth contempt and dread and a full retreat under the covers.<br />
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Dad: "Hey sweety, time to get up for school."<br />
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Daughter: "I am SO not going to get up!"<br />
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<i>*pulls covers over head and shrinks back into warm cocoon*</i><br />
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Dad: "The word for today is coercion."<br />
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Chloe: "It's not that I don't want to go to school, I just don't want to go yet."<br />
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Dad: "ok"<br />
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<i>*goes back to something else*</i><br />
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Chloe: "Wait!"<br />
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Dad: "What?"<br />
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Chloe: "Will you help me get dressed?"<br />
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Dad: "Of course I will."<br />
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Chloe: "NOT YET!"<br />
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<i>*slams covers back over head*</i>MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-60157537785649456582012-01-30T20:08:00.000-05:002012-01-30T20:08:37.192-05:00Criticising rap shows you're out of order<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zBKsOLUAPcn19J1TW7lxbNBzYSvmysj3mBE4iG-BAg5VxOw9wS72J8BzmoEuwKsGep6GrJEiMLKzB2htI9H7UkXNCeMopCCMNf0IJcGb3NNAZEKEYpoxRZTG1SOvF_UqQSVAGOa5cQet/s1600/cbeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7zBKsOLUAPcn19J1TW7lxbNBzYSvmysj3mBE4iG-BAg5VxOw9wS72J8BzmoEuwKsGep6GrJEiMLKzB2htI9H7UkXNCeMopCCMNf0IJcGb3NNAZEKEYpoxRZTG1SOvF_UqQSVAGOa5cQet/s320/cbeach.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Casually getting on her pajamas...</span><br />
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Daughter: "I wish I was still three."<br />
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Dad: "Oh yeah, why?"<br />
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Daughter: "Because three is the magic number."<br />
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---side note, as I was posting this Daughter saw the picture and exclaimed..."Is that me on the Moon!?"MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-24072925555580303382012-01-17T18:05:00.000-05:002012-01-17T18:05:38.993-05:00Quite possibly the last time she'll believe in the fat old man.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOmCDmdWD3PCLtW8NjlWa1IC6_xabLqRz3HQRdIa_4LKfdLi3E1ReIWOez72-ktX4V8I81VISAKpPo33jCDSTgo9cXyfyLvvA5mn5ir8uGvl90FznHJCqH26pMyFhZ2kby8PrlTONyNHz/s1600/cporch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfOmCDmdWD3PCLtW8NjlWa1IC6_xabLqRz3HQRdIa_4LKfdLi3E1ReIWOez72-ktX4V8I81VISAKpPo33jCDSTgo9cXyfyLvvA5mn5ir8uGvl90FznHJCqH26pMyFhZ2kby8PrlTONyNHz/s320/cporch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It's been quite sometime since I posted one of these. I can't decide if it is laziness, or that she has now started saying hilarious things so much I can't keep up...regardless. This Christmas convincing her of Santa was harder than ever, she's 2 days away from turning 6 and with that comes ALOT more common sense. I mean how does he get into our house if we don't have a chimney? And don't get me started on the multiple Santa's around town stuff. Tellulah and I pulled it off again this time, or so I like to believe we did.<br />
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A few days after Christmas, coming up from the basement.....<br />
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Daughter: "HEY! I know where Santa got the wrapping paper for my gifts."<br />
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Dad: <i>*knowing I didn't put them away I kind of freeze trying to come up with something*</i> "Oh, where?"<br />
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Daughter: <i>*giant grin on her face pointing at pile of wrapping paper*</i> "From down here."<br />
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Dad: "What!?" <i>*runs down the steps and smiles*</i> "Oh cool, Santa must have left his extra wrapping paper for us!"<br />
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--LONG UNCOMFORTABLE PAUSE--<br />
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Daughter: "Wow....he's really nice............but sneaky"<br />
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Dad: <i>*turns to find her giving me a penetrating stare*</i> "Yeah...sneaky...."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-90342076687154343772011-10-04T18:08:00.002-04:002012-01-19T12:56:13.374-05:00The similiarity is outstanding!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMBvw_wa9j0L4eFIRYCk3ZNzmbHFba81do0evAm7gWvxU2uRYp2L7NSs560usEP_wHtLlG-24eXFpdRIaiQUdF_hkk2U1zJNuTNibcb87cWdmhSORMkm1kf-N0LnIHB-lHb69nRJFx_Sy/s1600/1002011146a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilMBvw_wa9j0L4eFIRYCk3ZNzmbHFba81do0evAm7gWvxU2uRYp2L7NSs560usEP_wHtLlG-24eXFpdRIaiQUdF_hkk2U1zJNuTNibcb87cWdmhSORMkm1kf-N0LnIHB-lHb69nRJFx_Sy/s320/1002011146a.jpg" width="240px" /></a></div><br />
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After walking around the Fells Point Festival, headed back to the car...<br />
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Dad: "Ok, I'm tapped out. No more money we should head home."<br />
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Daughter: "Ok, if we don't have any more money to spend on the rides let's just go home and get some lunch."<br />
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Dad: "Great idea."<br />
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<i>short pause....</i><br />
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Daughter: "Hey! That guy looks just like you!"<br />
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Dad: "Huh? Who? Where?"<br />
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Daughter: "That guy on those steps, he looks just like you daddy!"<br />
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Dad: "oh......him <i>*realizes she is pointing to the homeless man nodding off on the steps of a nearby building*</i>....uh how does he look like me?"<br />
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Daughter: "His beard and hair are as grey as yours, and he is wearing the same hoodie"<br />
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Dad: "hmmm...yeah...sure he does...uh ok so let's get home shall we?"<br />
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Daughter: "Ok.........boy he really does look like you!"<br />
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Dad: "ok, ok, ok"MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-90201530240237615912011-09-27T09:03:00.000-04:002011-09-27T09:03:33.803-04:00A conclusive argument for more showers.<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-r75uTS6JpE1gbsCN6I5cupF7XXRXr_95gh30lHjXv1kxDDrou4gzDteepotbQHHXVsOEyMqC0Hl7K5qRje7ds4RXT5wXBBI2gjL22VedmC3CycncXm2gCdhyphenhyphenQw07drAZmD-z_aaeMfW9/s1600/0917011249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-r75uTS6JpE1gbsCN6I5cupF7XXRXr_95gh30lHjXv1kxDDrou4gzDteepotbQHHXVsOEyMqC0Hl7K5qRje7ds4RXT5wXBBI2gjL22VedmC3CycncXm2gCdhyphenhyphenQw07drAZmD-z_aaeMfW9/s320/0917011249.jpg" width="240px" /></a></div><br />
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On a foggy drive to school....<br />
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Dad: "Look at that field, it's completely covered in fog!"<br />
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Daughter: "Wow! I can't see anything down there!"<br />
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Dad: "If you were standing in that field, I wouldn't be able to see you."<br />
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Daughter: "I wouldn't be able to see you either."<br />
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Dad: "How would we find each other if you couldn't see me?" "What other sense could you use to find me?"<br />
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Daughter: "I could smell you."<br />
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Dad: "uh..... <em>*sniffs self*</em> Really?"<br />
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Daughter: "Yeah, definitely."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-36201466443189514852011-05-15T20:54:00.000-04:002011-05-15T20:54:56.603-04:00Cue "5 Tone Communication" sequence....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA94dSJI5eF_87HiDts4MyyeZdEUC2ZIWwWBpLV2nnC8TfAWgn75zEiPmhWZW-CBtlCezny-mso0EY1OOjnYiIcHKtqQisoufR-aD-TnphjDdaHNIgStMT8HOoMVUFVAgXoAeZWh25lYY9/s1600/random+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA94dSJI5eF_87HiDts4MyyeZdEUC2ZIWwWBpLV2nnC8TfAWgn75zEiPmhWZW-CBtlCezny-mso0EY1OOjnYiIcHKtqQisoufR-aD-TnphjDdaHNIgStMT8HOoMVUFVAgXoAeZWh25lYY9/s320/random+035.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
On a rather muggy and stormy Sunday afternoon, filled with packing, cooking, cleaning, movies, etc. We stopped for a moment after a particularly heavy downpour and attack of thunder and lightening and walked out onto the front porch. The sky was an almost even split of bright and eerily dreadful orange and gray, coupled with a bright and deep deep blue.<br />
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Dad: "Wow! Check that out! What a sky!"<br />
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Daughter: "Woah!!!"<br />
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<i>....pause.....</i>.<br />
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Daughter: "When we move to another planet I hope it's as cool as this one."<br />
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Dad: <i>*face slightly scrunched with confusion* </i><br />
<i> </i>"Babe, I don't think we're ever going to move to another planet."<br />
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Daughter: "Not now, but very soon we will."<br />
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Dad: <i>*complete serious deadpan stare at daughter*</i><br />
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Daughter: "Cool sky" <i>*turns and walks inside, humming softly*</i>MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-84521214868588695772011-04-11T19:00:00.005-04:002011-04-12T10:40:55.726-04:00I don't know where I'd be without your perspective.<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdK8NNdEETA5GbVWGqaPBCcCctVISTYCSLCKyPs_kfcEOhk1kPdKYo-FUbLS_1i22YIxUpVRhF5_KJJp6C33t8btNC2o6Cr_8u_jhjR-8YtmuQmPdMFoWr27xDwVipVYH6TSlbQ631g_K5/s1600/71641_448997108047_634678047_5295325_4614374_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdK8NNdEETA5GbVWGqaPBCcCctVISTYCSLCKyPs_kfcEOhk1kPdKYo-FUbLS_1i22YIxUpVRhF5_KJJp6C33t8btNC2o6Cr_8u_jhjR-8YtmuQmPdMFoWr27xDwVipVYH6TSlbQ631g_K5/s320/71641_448997108047_634678047_5295325_4614374_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>Dad: "So how was your dentists visit?"<br />
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Chloe: "Good, he said I need to floss more, and that my brown tooth is getting loose and will come out soon."<br />
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Dad: <em>*tugging on the tooth* </em>"Yes, it is almost ready to come out, you need to give it to me if it comes out."<br />
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Chloe: "No way! I'm giving it to the tooth fairy, so I can get some money for it!"<br />
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Dad: "Well, yes, but I need to inspect it and contact the tooth fairy, so don't leave it anywhere, ok?"<br />
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Chloe: "Ok<em>.......*pause*....</em>so how was your day?"<br />
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Dad: <em>*looking up from my dinner*</em> <br />
"It was fine....thanks...stressful but fine otherwise."<br />
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Chloe "Why was it stressful?"<br />
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Dad: "Someone broke into my car."<br />
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Chloe: "Why didn't you lock it?"<br />
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Dad: "I did, but they broke the window and tore it apart."<br />
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Chloe: "Why?"<br />
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Dad: "I guess because they wanted to find something, maybe money."<br />
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Chloe: "Well, things could be worse."<br />
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Dad: <em>*sits back and looks at daughter with a smile*</em> <br />
"Yes, you are right, they could be far worse."<br />
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Chloe: <em>*mouth full of food, pointing fork at me*</em> <br />
"Yeah, they could have stolen my tooth."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-31306086488903642522011-03-19T10:09:00.000-04:002011-03-19T10:09:38.129-04:00Of course it does.Lessons in spelling. Something I have been doing alot of lately is balancing that fine line of allowing Daughter's new found enjoyment of writing to blossom as it will, not to put any hindrance on her exploration of the beautiful language we call English. (OK it's not that pretty of a language but still-it beats grunts and groans)<br />
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Dad: "What are you writing?"<br />
Daughter: "A word I learned."<br />
Dad: "That doesn't really spell anything."<br />
Daughter: "Of course it does."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy23BfFveUPqZh6CIbx0X-IwSxXRKku0sgazJPD1lT_pygbmQuWxYjc2edug4YeMhOG9lz9bbkLY8bm2UYh1w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-60499289529597103262010-12-27T19:33:00.001-05:002010-12-27T19:34:40.023-05:00There's a Fine Lion.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKYeE1kq0pOvm3fBodI4bwQd8eAlxl7mduMgKn4kOjceGIhW37xzi0BHHBzaI4wtT9triCB9DnUB8HjMu8YTPYcPOA5FLNteDWnznY79u2Q2wHHdPDmExsgX6Hw4diLX0ot_4WwpK3x0m/s1600/random+045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKYeE1kq0pOvm3fBodI4bwQd8eAlxl7mduMgKn4kOjceGIhW37xzi0BHHBzaI4wtT9triCB9DnUB8HjMu8YTPYcPOA5FLNteDWnznY79u2Q2wHHdPDmExsgX6Hw4diLX0ot_4WwpK3x0m/s320/random+045.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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*upstairs cleaning up daughters room as she recovers from the flu downstairs*<br />
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Daughter: "daddy.......Daddy..........Daddy!.......DADDY!"<br />
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Dad: *coming down the steps* "Yeah baby, what's up?"<br />
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Daughter: "You can't hurt lions because they are imported"<br />
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Dad: "Important?"<br />
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Daughter "huh?"<br />
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Dad: "They are important"<br />
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Daughter: "I know, that's what I said!"<br />
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Dad: *sighs and turns to go back to work on room*<br />
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Daughter: "DADDY!"<br />
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Dad: *from the top of stairs* "What!?"<br />
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Daughter: "You shouldn't eat them either."<br />
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Dad:......"Yeah eating lions is a bad idea."<br />
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Daughter: "Because they're imported."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-59063192099819773792010-12-11T09:02:00.000-05:002010-12-11T09:02:25.965-05:00Like Father - Like Daughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4128/5173932302_c8100161b6_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4128/5173932302_c8100161b6_z.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />
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Daughter: "My favorite word is No!"<br />
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Dad: "Oh? IS it?"<br />
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Daughter: "Yes!"<br />
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Dad: "Why is No your favorite word?"<br />
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Daughter: "Well Matt and Mommy say No is my favorite word."<br />
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Dad: <i>*chuckles*</i> "Well, they have a good point, but I think there is a difference between your favorite word and your most used word."<br />
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Daughter: "Huh?"<br />
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Dad: "What is your favorite word to say?"<br />
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Daughter:.....*thinking*..... "My favorite word is Love!"<br />
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Dad: *smiles* "That's a great word."<br />
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<i>*long quiet pause.......*</i><br />
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Daughter: "But I do say No alot."<br />
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Dad: "Yeah you do."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-59471968394341637572010-11-12T20:47:00.004-05:002010-11-12T20:59:40.260-05:00Creepy Little Kid....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrsvnJHDglBIl5UzZccev12HoIQROKcrX_sEhTQgMgQ3NXAwAxJSWQZFDLr1VXwfQglPSBrT1MKTY7xvePnUjfcJAMAWhN9HfEMpLeqOcwBskU2bb3TWN9TtdIdzFWwA3YSQ9vCaKaDHD/s1600/random+182.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtrsvnJHDglBIl5UzZccev12HoIQROKcrX_sEhTQgMgQ3NXAwAxJSWQZFDLr1VXwfQglPSBrT1MKTY7xvePnUjfcJAMAWhN9HfEMpLeqOcwBskU2bb3TWN9TtdIdzFWwA3YSQ9vCaKaDHD/s320/random+182.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538846727891536482" /></a><br /><br /><br />*arriving home after the typical Friday night TJ's and grocers stop. As I am unloading bags into the house Chloe goes ahead of me.*<br /><br />Daughter: "Daddy, I'm going to go put my stuff down inside."<br /><br />Dad: "Ok, thanks, I'll be right in"<br /><br />Daughter: <span style="font-style:italic;">*running out of the house*</span> "I saw something!"<br /><br />Dad: "What did you see?"<br /><br />Daughter: "It was dark and ran across the house!"<br /><br />Dad: "You probably saw one fo the mice, it's cold they're coming inside now."<br /><br />Daughter: "Mice are grey, this was darker and bigger!"<br /><br />Dad: "baby, mice can look dark from a distance, they're small and run fast, now help me with these bags."<br /><br />Daughter: "No, she was my size!"<br /><br />Dad: "What!?...She?!....you're size?!"<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*temporary stare off; me at the car, Chloe on the porch*</span><br /><br />Daughter:".....uh....maybe it was my imagination or something like that."<br /><br />Dad: <span style="font-weight:bold;">TOTALLY FUCKING CREEPED OUT....</span> <span style="font-style:italic;">proceeds to bake cookies anyway..</span>MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-91702444600509275392010-10-16T14:18:00.001-04:002010-11-12T20:42:24.352-05:00Bed Wetting Training is in Full Affect<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBMrTbUSoTmXWWIQu54zyGB5989c2FsitDaC2KuoKD40KZUWNHhHeCGIk0Zw5VyTC-ft3r1Gl_6wV59_r3fI8q25O4191K1ov_n67aObwGNOgBUPfjIsMh1Sr0PgcEYWfMlWnBJIxPbw2/s1600/random+156.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwBMrTbUSoTmXWWIQu54zyGB5989c2FsitDaC2KuoKD40KZUWNHhHeCGIk0Zw5VyTC-ft3r1Gl_6wV59_r3fI8q25O4191K1ov_n67aObwGNOgBUPfjIsMh1Sr0PgcEYWfMlWnBJIxPbw2/s320/random+156.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538843113513702962" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*slowly waking up and feeling Chloe's little foot with his, realizing she crawled into bed with him (normal routine)*</span><br /><br />Dad: "Chloe, good morning are you awake?"<br /><br />Daughter: "Yes. Can I have some cereal?"<br /><br />Dad: "Sure, did you wet your bed?"<br /><br />Daughter: "Nope."<br /><br />Dad: (still laying on my side facing away from her) "Did you wet mine?....."<br /><br />Daughter: "Nope."<br /><br />Dad: <span style="font-style:italic;">*smile creeps across face*</span><br /><br />Daughter: "Oh, wait....."<br /><br />Dad: <span style="font-style:italic;">*eyes pop open and smile disappears*</span><br /><br />Daughter: *shuffling around in bed* "Ahhh...no, actually I didn't pee on anything."<br /><br />Dad: <span style="font-style:italic;">*relaxes, starts to drift back off*</span><br /><br />Daughter: "So can I have some cereal?" <br /><br />Dad: <span style="font-style:italic;">*wakes back up*</span>...."ok, ok...I'm going." <span style="font-style:italic;">*gets up heads to the bathroom and is cut off by 4 year old doing the "potty dance"* </span><br /><br />-success.MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-14161568322623804632010-09-19T18:54:00.005-04:002010-09-19T19:13:56.701-04:00You Got That!?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJu-1jip-ebc5Hrox-CpkZ8RNJll3Wuna8qEYL6KLYNr_iDt3T_ivlVtjvEWJTdgEgyUhUC35GYZpLRMa1zW_avNfJHI5ETxwl3g4_LxXWpwnSv8AfkVTklfPPe0iSaPUdDENFoMJAiGxq/s1600/downsized_0810001832.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJu-1jip-ebc5Hrox-CpkZ8RNJll3Wuna8qEYL6KLYNr_iDt3T_ivlVtjvEWJTdgEgyUhUC35GYZpLRMa1zW_avNfJHI5ETxwl3g4_LxXWpwnSv8AfkVTklfPPe0iSaPUdDENFoMJAiGxq/s320/downsized_0810001832.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5518763704644910210" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*sitting on the bank of a river*<br /><br />Chloe: *deafening screams of terror*<br /><br />Tellulah: "What's wrong Chloe!?"<br /><br />Dad: "Hey, hey, come here what's the matter?"<br /><br />Chloe *still shaking and wide eyed* "It scared me!"<br /><br />Tellulah: "Oh the spider over there, running up the bank."<br /><br />Dad: "Chloe that's a Daddy Long Leg, it won't bother you."<br /><br />Tellulah: "Chloe, look how small it is, it's just afraid of you, because you are so much bigger than it is. It won't hurt you."<br /><br />Chloe: "I'm just afraid of it."<br /><br />Tellulah: "What if you were that size? If you were that small you'd be afraid of getting stepped on, just like it is afraid of you stepping on it."<br /><br />Chloe: "No, if I was a spider, I'd just yell".... (switches to tiny high pitched scream) Daddy, daddy, come save me I'm over here!"<br /><br />Dad: "Ha!, I would totally come save you, but I'm afraid of......"<br /><br />Chloe: (interrupts me, drops her voice, puts her finger in my face, gets evil look on her face) "YOU BETTER REMEMBER ME WHEN I'M A SPIDER!!!!"<br /><br />Dad: *Wide-eyed stare at Tellulah*<br /><br />Tellulah: *belly laughs*MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-73871721071315915152010-09-17T09:00:00.005-04:002010-09-17T09:08:02.966-04:00My daughter is so much cooler than you...and me.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPMMQ8L5Tkjho5heu9m-DVSC2sUwIZT0w67p-HdWQknuBtRm3OLnQKzNbY-xzNYgL1iqVyaQIwT2OCITLr26h7mYaFsJDKMjGxds-4lCuQqVecNBc30nDxLhSQFCgew0QVzXhQM60aBHW/s1600/0821001527.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyPMMQ8L5Tkjho5heu9m-DVSC2sUwIZT0w67p-HdWQknuBtRm3OLnQKzNbY-xzNYgL1iqVyaQIwT2OCITLr26h7mYaFsJDKMjGxds-4lCuQqVecNBc30nDxLhSQFCgew0QVzXhQM60aBHW/s320/0821001527.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517866766225758130" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />*Chloe and I driving to school listening to The Clash*<br /><br />Daughter: "I'm playing drums!"<br /><br />Dad: *joins in on the drumming* "So Am I!"<br /><br />Daughter: "You need to play a different instrument."<br /><br />Dad: *switches to bass guitar* "Ok, I'm the bass player and your're the drummer."<br /><br />*jamming out to The Guns of Brixton for a minute*<br /><br />Dad: "We're in a band, what should we call it?"<br /><br />Daughter: "I don't know."<br /><br />Dad: "Well, we need a name for our band so people will know who we are."<br /><br />Daughter: "I don't know"<br /><br />Dad: "Pick a name, any name you want." <br /><br />(this is where I prepare myself for the inevitable "We're the Princesses!")<br /><br />Daughter: ........long pause.......... "A Bird!"<br /><br />Dad: "Where!?"<br /><br />Daughter: "No silly, that's the name of our band!"<br /><br />Dad: "A Bird?"<br /><br />Daughter "Yeah, A Bird."<br /><br />Dad: "Awesome band name Chloe!"<br /><br />Daughter: ........stops drumming puts thumb in mouth......"Yeah, I know, we're awesome."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-46697995202781848202010-09-16T20:09:00.004-04:002010-09-16T20:17:53.290-04:00Transgender Digestive Systems, Apparently.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWCM4c4b3fGQIKY9LrA_Bal1xFSmClmBP9YpTS-_WMOY4mPGZ7XMZ0bzpbCMF0QYcEdNkxyFrAWmNMsYnQEgvIJVWe5LPaDxdY52x7iOHipfUBPyOF_V786YOB1jUYxiHEmrX9h3RBQiA/s1600/random+019.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWCM4c4b3fGQIKY9LrA_Bal1xFSmClmBP9YpTS-_WMOY4mPGZ7XMZ0bzpbCMF0QYcEdNkxyFrAWmNMsYnQEgvIJVWe5LPaDxdY52x7iOHipfUBPyOF_V786YOB1jUYxiHEmrX9h3RBQiA/s320/random+019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5517669893286022770" /></a><br /><br />Dad: "Will a hot shower make you feel better?"<br /><br />Daughter: "Yeah"............."But my belly is saying that he wants to lay down for a minute."<br /><br />Dad: "Would your stomach telling you he wants to lay down for a minute have anything to do with the fact that you're watching cartoons?"<br /><br />Daughter: "Yeah"<br /><br />Dad: "Is your stomach a boy or a girl?"<br /><br />Daughter: "He's a girl, a pretty girl like you."<br /><br />Dad: "......ok.....thanks."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-35100110058296884142010-06-22T16:48:00.000-04:002010-08-08T15:09:52.410-04:00What One Will Do For Love.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oGNrm-M2BBVF8CfRzctoiptn_DNwtjIXDiZIN4s57VFKBb0Vd7iw4l_p0UtORHj5r6SWlWwGP3G28RS4Nk6Uc5rJGy56b0M9slaElpdc3tStprfM-rUqD17LbZvM9bUACtHOq0b1QH83/s1600/0613001210a.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oGNrm-M2BBVF8CfRzctoiptn_DNwtjIXDiZIN4s57VFKBb0Vd7iw4l_p0UtORHj5r6SWlWwGP3G28RS4Nk6Uc5rJGy56b0M9slaElpdc3tStprfM-rUqD17LbZvM9bUACtHOq0b1QH83/s320/0613001210a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503117497468862722" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">*driving to store*</span><br /><br />Daughter: "Ewww!, this stinks....smell it!"<br /><br />Dad: "What!? Why?! What stinks and why do I need to smell it?"<br /><br />Daughter: "This!"<br /><br />Dad: "I'm driving, just tell me what it is."<br /><br />Daughter: "My monkey, my monkey stinks." <br /><br />....long slightly uneasy pause......<br /><br />Dad: "What did you say?"<br /><br />Daughter: "My monkey stinks, here, sniff it; it stinks!"<br /><br />Dad: *comes to red light, turns to see Daughter holding up a toy monkey*<br /><br />Daughter: "Well?!"<br /><br />Dad: leans over and sniffs oddly and amazingly stinky toy monkey....MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-41642784830336146962010-05-29T18:39:00.005-04:002010-05-29T19:49:57.524-04:00I know my A,B,3's!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdbpYZebrLkDJXBVzmbqT4TNoU-WX6TpF_9ANMQDuvHhZzjQkLgktzoAgOSzvOw2Tpu95VFg2A1yFSxaz0TIRpePU8AOWfMxXLVueHDMX5NgHY4p4Y9xzcnQSphX2HzKcArD7vVosVGoA/s1600/downsized_0524001806a.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBdbpYZebrLkDJXBVzmbqT4TNoU-WX6TpF_9ANMQDuvHhZzjQkLgktzoAgOSzvOw2Tpu95VFg2A1yFSxaz0TIRpePU8AOWfMxXLVueHDMX5NgHY4p4Y9xzcnQSphX2HzKcArD7vVosVGoA/s320/downsized_0524001806a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476835631841345074" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">*Pointing at title of book*</span><br /><br />Dad: "Chloe, what are these letters?"<br /><br />Daughter: "G-O"<br /><br />Dad: "What does that spell?"<br /><br />Daughter: "Go!"<br /><br />Dad: "Yes! That's great!!"<br /><br />*high-fives exchanged, daughter gets excited*<br /><br />Dad: "OK, what are these letters?"<br /><br />Daughter: "W-E"<br /><br />Dad: "And what does that spell?"<br /><br />Daughter: "Exercise!"<br /><br />Dad:.............?MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-82839071577424668352010-05-18T15:50:00.005-04:002010-05-18T16:00:57.983-04:00Honesty...the "Fresh-Maker"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwTZbJwltaj8WrbdWB31WUoBn46V1XRLKuV54wUbKNj_j1uW7dIGRnC3fxzb0u10PL2PYSquoW07O9Qy8EGPYsvNDY0BihvsJ4c_2sP923ykNxxHe7zUsuyD38ctg3Ft1BHRhJpnUYz3Hl/s1600/27851_389073397698_788542698_3863501_7903108_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwTZbJwltaj8WrbdWB31WUoBn46V1XRLKuV54wUbKNj_j1uW7dIGRnC3fxzb0u10PL2PYSquoW07O9Qy8EGPYsvNDY0BihvsJ4c_2sP923ykNxxHe7zUsuyD38ctg3Ft1BHRhJpnUYz3Hl/s320/27851_389073397698_788542698_3863501_7903108_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472702204083351906" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><em>*laying in bed reading to a sad looking Chloe*</em><br /><br />Dad: "Hey, you look sad. Is there something you want to talk about?"<br /><br />Daughter: "I'm sorry I said I don't love you anymore."<br /><br />Dad: "Oh sweety, it's ok, I know it's frustrating to have to be told it's time for bed. I know you want to stay up and play but you have school in the morning and you are tired. I am very proud of you for having the courage to apologize. We all say things we sometimes don't mean and I understand, and I know you love me and I love you more than anything in the whole world."<br /><br />Daughter: "Am I the most important thing in the whole world?"<br /><br />Dad: "Yes, you certainly are."<br /><br />Daughter: "Am I beautiful?"<br /><br />Dad: "Yes, the most beautiful!"<br /><br />Daughter: "Your breath stinks...."<br /><br />Dad: <em>*blank stare-turns, clears throat, and continues reading*</em>MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-65721611144130402592010-05-13T12:12:00.003-04:002010-05-13T14:03:49.875-04:00The Dead are Gross<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuS96537jFs96JiyAMfvd0OesXipofMcbFRnz3wNTR4K1v-ZxWhJ6d2uNtWdbGdcWvSu_xS8Rxo07HpCFZmbbQs2nFq8CXBPGCd7jURQ8_QKz3KavNiaTcBdKmA-V4nR-EkBCNlwEigvB/s1600/random+177.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuS96537jFs96JiyAMfvd0OesXipofMcbFRnz3wNTR4K1v-ZxWhJ6d2uNtWdbGdcWvSu_xS8Rxo07HpCFZmbbQs2nFq8CXBPGCd7jURQ8_QKz3KavNiaTcBdKmA-V4nR-EkBCNlwEigvB/s320/random+177.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470788707728680402" /></a><br />*driving back from school*<br /><br />Daughter: "Ooooh! Look at that!!!!!!!"<br /><br />Dad: *looks to the left to see a cemetary* "Ah, yeah a cememtary."<br /><br />Daughter: "That's where you go when you are sad to put up flowers and letters."<br /><br />Dad: "Uh yes, that's true." "Do you know what a cemetary is?"<br /><br />Daughter: "No."<br /><br />Dad: "It's a place that we bury the dead." "When someone dies we place them in the ground and mark where they are buried so we can come and visit them."<br /><br />Daughter: *incredibly long pause..........* "EEEEWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!"MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-35424149759872481892010-05-13T12:04:00.004-04:002010-05-13T14:03:02.404-04:00Training Bras<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXPAs5b2x2eReuOeaM9Bhz5Rx-d9-9s0k8a4ziMFqrU6eMr9QM7u4mgKL9Di2NJztkVUopYHn86fVpbOl1Juj83oOm9A-0_XA5Pj9saQYH-WpJkX5uJ8SQR7-dW96abwnr8roqOrVm4DQ/s1600/random+030.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNXPAs5b2x2eReuOeaM9Bhz5Rx-d9-9s0k8a4ziMFqrU6eMr9QM7u4mgKL9Di2NJztkVUopYHn86fVpbOl1Juj83oOm9A-0_XA5Pj9saQYH-WpJkX5uJ8SQR7-dW96abwnr8roqOrVm4DQ/s320/random+030.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470786896345935858" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Daughter: *getting dressed for school* "I've got little boobies."<br /><br />Dad: "Those are nipples, and yes now they are little."<br /><br />Daughter: "When I grow up I am going to have big boobies like you."<br /><br />Dad: *sigh....* ".....thanks, let's get dressed we're going to be late."MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9174676354122889570.post-82741492332828611082010-03-06T10:07:00.002-05:002010-05-13T13:53:59.870-04:00Interrupted Movements<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffIyIuaClu6FI9e3UYCUX1fnrPQD1s7c65EVfrtlvcUUSmckuAZ4pEg1TwnlymFn613NZDCUqdzvpNxrTJ5Vl4T4SPVkjKwdERlyaryeN7h7ZFGBtxhV4Yd1jNyNeniPAopSmYC-TYemO/s1600-h/Halloween09+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffIyIuaClu6FI9e3UYCUX1fnrPQD1s7c65EVfrtlvcUUSmckuAZ4pEg1TwnlymFn613NZDCUqdzvpNxrTJ5Vl4T4SPVkjKwdERlyaryeN7h7ZFGBtxhV4Yd1jNyNeniPAopSmYC-TYemO/s320/Halloween09+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445909088040033698" border="0" /></a><br />Dad: *staring forward at a wall, relaxing, and trying to discreetly use the restroom*<br /><br />Daughter: *standing 4 inches from my face while pinching her nose* "Is it going to stink in here?!"<br /><br />Dad: *giant heaving sigh*MBerronghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03729190625498153208noreply@blogger.com0