MOM there is a gieco salesman in the pot! Come look!
Sure enough, there was a little fellah in the potty. Better make sure he is dead *gentle prod* oh hey! yes! He's alive!! Whoot! Boy 1, go get your old hermit crab habitat, Boy 2, go grab some fresh grass, Boy 3, get some of the peach out of the fruit salad.
Poor little thing just lost his tail, the blood scab is still bright red. Obviously freaked out, I would be too if giants were handling me and squawking. Never seen this color before, like a pale peach with red highlights. Kinda spiky. I should name him Velvet or Smoothie
Fat bugger, so not undernourished by a long shot. Hiding his front right limb so often I thought it was missing at first too.
Now where in the world did he come from??? really, I'm kind of a neat freak and bugaphobic. I clean/bleach the heck out of that room so often that you would think any critter would steer far and clear just from the fumes. Granted I've had the windows open because of the nice weather, but again, ANY room but the chemically sterile bathroom....and he was found IN the toilet floating. The boys thought he was dead actually.
There is a vent directly above the toilet, thats my best guess, that he came from there.
Of course that leads me to wonder: Just what the hell has he been eating in my vents that has him so fat and happy....and who/what stole his tail in there? EEEK *insert loud girly scream*
He is now safe enough. Has fresh fruit, have the boys seeking crickets and other small insects outside. Has water, fresh grass, some climbing sticks, a hidey hole and a hot rock for warmth.
Where did he come from?
And what happened to his tail?
A brand new FunHouse mystery begins......
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Happy Blogday to me
I had no idea until I was peeping at my profile that it was my bloggerversary. How is it possible it's been a year? I swear Jessie just bullied me into having one of these things a month or so ago. Sheesh.
What does one do for a bloggerversary?
Me? I talk about my day and how it started out with the usual random chaos that seems to rule my life.
Ebear actually ROLLED THE JEEP.
A power wheels jeep. pow pow powerwheels testosterone makes it go.
Yessir, he rolled it.
No one was hurt except maybe his mother who jumped in and out of her skin 4 times before getting to the Jeep to check on the kids.
They were fine, Evie was doing her best impersonation of a back seat harpy reading him the riot act about not having the right tires to climb mount suicide (a small hill in the back yard).
This event was not related in any way to those two trying to escape the family back 40 (feet) and had everything to do with him being his fathers child.
I wish I had it on film *sigh*
Father was smacked smartly about the head with a newspaper for passing his thrill seeking idiot genes to the boy child. To make it sting all the worse, I, er, the assailant used the political commentary section. Doctors assure that he will be fine after some physical therapy....personally I don't think he will work his brain any harder now than he did before and the damage had nothing to do with the paper to begin with and he is just being a whiny baby. But I digress.
A pink and white Barbie beach patrol Jeep.
Oh the humanity.
Then we get to the afternoon which started off quiet, if not entirely sane. Ebear is outside my window this very moment standing on top of his rocket ship yelling at the squirrels. I think they are at war. I hear something about 'onnicles' which translated means Bionicles, a lego robot creature. I suspect the dratted gray tailed bandit made off with a part from Ebears stash and hell hath no emphatic plans like a 4 year old on a mission.
Evie, being the smart one (IE the girl) has decided to take her babies inside and is putting them all down for a nap. One baby is clearly not behaving because she is threatening to not read a story unless baby hushes.
The older boys are just whining about wanting to go to Mardi Gras today. It's Joe Cain day, which means it is the day to get drunker than hungry raccoon on a spring afternoon under the mulberry tree, if you know what I mean.
Not kid friendly.
So they are pouting and being insolent.
Big Daddy is recovering from his head trauma and attempting engineering.
How are you this fine Blogaversary Sunday?
What does one do for a bloggerversary?
Me? I talk about my day and how it started out with the usual random chaos that seems to rule my life.
Ebear actually ROLLED THE JEEP.
A power wheels jeep. pow pow powerwheels testosterone makes it go.
Yessir, he rolled it.
No one was hurt except maybe his mother who jumped in and out of her skin 4 times before getting to the Jeep to check on the kids.
They were fine, Evie was doing her best impersonation of a back seat harpy reading him the riot act about not having the right tires to climb mount suicide (a small hill in the back yard).
This event was not related in any way to those two trying to escape the family back 40 (feet) and had everything to do with him being his fathers child.
I wish I had it on film *sigh*
Father was smacked smartly about the head with a newspaper for passing his thrill seeking idiot genes to the boy child. To make it sting all the worse, I, er, the assailant used the political commentary section. Doctors assure that he will be fine after some physical therapy....personally I don't think he will work his brain any harder now than he did before and the damage had nothing to do with the paper to begin with and he is just being a whiny baby. But I digress.
A pink and white Barbie beach patrol Jeep.
Oh the humanity.
Then we get to the afternoon which started off quiet, if not entirely sane. Ebear is outside my window this very moment standing on top of his rocket ship yelling at the squirrels. I think they are at war. I hear something about 'onnicles' which translated means Bionicles, a lego robot creature. I suspect the dratted gray tailed bandit made off with a part from Ebears stash and hell hath no emphatic plans like a 4 year old on a mission.
Evie, being the smart one (IE the girl) has decided to take her babies inside and is putting them all down for a nap. One baby is clearly not behaving because she is threatening to not read a story unless baby hushes.
The older boys are just whining about wanting to go to Mardi Gras today. It's Joe Cain day, which means it is the day to get drunker than hungry raccoon on a spring afternoon under the mulberry tree, if you know what I mean.
Not kid friendly.
So they are pouting and being insolent.
Big Daddy is recovering from his head trauma and attempting engineering.
How are you this fine Blogaversary Sunday?
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