The Alter Ego Strikes Again!

Alter Ego Worthless Son

That stinking alter ego worthless son kidnapped my hard-working son!

hard-working son

I cannot believe it!  He, the hard-working son, left with my car bright and early Saturday morning to get the pool paint because he was going to paint that afternoon, and I didn’t see him again until 4:30 that afternoon.  No paint.  What the heck?  He tried to explain how and why it was that he had been gone all day long without getting the paint for the pool, but, of course, he could not because that stinking alter ego worthless son kidnapped him.  Alas.  I shall catch that no goodnik one of these days, and get rid of him forever!

On the bright side, my little grandgirls were in the Kiddie Parade Saturday evening since it was rained out Saturday morning.  It was a rather small parade:  Kate and Ava and a little girl in the crowd we begged to get in it.  They made a circle in the road and that was it.  Rain has a way of changing plans and keeping them from getting back on course.  That is why I am still working on getting the pool painted:  the rain that caused the flooding.  But the girls had a great time even if the parade lasted all of three seconds.

The first place winners


Little Ava went to sleep at 4:30, and the parade was supposed to be at 5:30, so right at the stroke of midnight, so to speak, she woke up and got to ride in the parade after all.  That three seconds was awesome for my sweetie pies.  There were some people gathered for the real parade that clapped, making Kate a star.

Ah, life in a little town.

Gypsy Parade

three budding gypsies

This past winter the girls and I were gypsies.  Kate loves pretending to be, well, just about anything.  And, of course, do I.  Ava will follow suit even though sometimes she refuses to wear our “designs” for play.  She’s usually rather stoic, looking at us like we are fools, with her solemn little eyes.  I can just hear those thoughts now. “Please don’t tell me you expect me to put that thing on my head!”  Although recently she has begun to enjoy pretending with us.

We traipse around town, the three of us; me pushing Ava in the stroller; Kate driving her pink Barbie car… her decorated pink Barbie car.  She usually has riders along for the ride as well.

passengers ready for a ride

I have on the worst clothes in my closet (usually short shorts that highlight my nasty thighs and a cami with stains) because we never decide to go for the ride/walk until we are outside in the middle of it, a block away from appropriate clothes before I realize I wouldn’t be caught dead in the clothes I am traipsing all over town in!  The gypsy parade:  Me in the what-kind-of-get-up-is-that, Kate in God-alone-only-knows-what-she’s-come-up-with, and Ava stained from lunch and dirty from playing; me pushing the stroller that Ava sits in with a drink in hand, doll or stuffed animal squeezed beside her with periodic yielding as I take my foot and push the back of the car that Kate has run off the sidewalk road because she is gawking at something along the route; me in flipflops with the other two gypsies barefoot.

Maybe we should call this the Redneck Gypsy Parade.