I’m Blogging Too

Over the past several weeks, after starting my blog, I, of course, have spent more time in the evenings and weekends on my computer. I found a fantastic way to manage this, that’s a win-win for both me AND Emma.  Two words.  McDonald’s Playland. Yep, I took Emma over to McD’s got us a snack and a drink, and headed for the play area. 

I think I have only done that once before.  I’m not usually a huge fan of the place, let alone all of the kids running wild around like little wildebeests (yes, that’s really how it’s spelled. I had to google it). And I am NOT a fan of screaming children either.  Sounds like a recipe for disaster for me, huh?  Well surprisingly, There were only a few other people in the play area, and only a couple of kids. And it was QUIET.  do you believe that? I sat down with my laptop and my HUGE iced tea, and got busy.  

Emma ran off to play, coming back periodically for a nibble of food and a drink.

surprisingly, it was fantastic!  Not at all what I was afraid it would be….a room that smelled like feet, PACKED with screaming kids, and snotty slobbery babies…..

So naturally Emma asks me what I’m doing when I’m on my computer.  I tell her I’m “blogging”.  She asked me what that means.  I explained that I have my own space on the internet (arent I COOL?), that I can post pictures, ideas, crafts, and thoughts, to share them with people. I don’t know if that was a good enough explanation, but it seemed to satisfy her curiosity.

Later on during the same weekend, we went to the Mall to get a second pair of these super cool shoes I got at Lady Footlocker.  (They were so comfy I wanted to have one pair to wear strictly to the gym, and another pair I can abuse the rest of the time.) Emma is a member of the “kids club” at the Mall, so that entitles her to a FREE balloon, ANYTIME we go to there.  WOW. That’s darn near priceless considering the meltdowns over getting and not getting a balloon that we have had in Fred Meyer and other stores that SELL balloons, and well worth the $5 annual fee for the membership.  🙂  So we stopped at the information booth to get her balloon. 

We walked by Myfroyo (If you don’t know, it’s a frozen yogurt shop) and of course she reallllllyyyyyyyy wanted to go get some.  I said no, we haven’t even eaten dinner yet.  That was followed by more pleassssse and some mildly irritating whining…..”but it’s healthy“! I said “No, it’s not healthy, it’s just a little better for you than ice cream”. (I left off “until you put all the crap on top that they call “toppings”, cuz I didn’t want to completely burst her bubble). With that, I kicked it into high gear to get us into the store and back out of the Mall, STAT.  I was loosing my patience rapidly.  (I know, not ME, right?)

Phew, mission accomplished.

When we got back into the car, Emma asked for a pen. Which I handed her. (Don’t freak out, she likes to write and draw in the back seat, and is not one of those kids that does either of those things ON SEATS.)  I hear her start sounding out words while writing on her balloon.  Words like Daisy (our cat), Riley (our dog)….pretty soon she asked me how to spell Myfroyo, and then frozen yogurt.  She finished up, and handed me back the pen. I asked what she was doing….

Her reply was “I’m blogging….on my balloon. But I didn’t tell them I have a hermit crab and I spelled out frozen yogurt so kids, like two, or three years old won’t argue with their parents about it (Myfroyo) being ice cream.”

Well that was awfully nice of her to think of the poor parents, after the ringer she put ME through not 15 minutes earlier.

I’m wondering where exactly she thought we were going to “post” this informatin on her “balloon blog”.  The kid cracks me up sometimes.  🙂 


One response

  1. Have you ever thought about writing an e-book or guest authoring on other sites? I have a blog based upon on the same subjects you discuss and would love to have you share some stories/information. I know my audience would appreciate your work. If you’re even remotely interested, feel free to shoot me an e-mail.

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