A conversation between M- and J-: They call me MISTER Princess!

The following short but sweet conversation between my wife J- and my 4-year-old daughter M- speaks volumes about what we face these days with our little "senior in preschool".

J- (obviously quite serious, calling her over a second time for a reprimand): Excuse me, ma'am!

M- (pointedly referring to her ongoing game, to explain her previous lack of response): Do you mean, "Princess"??

J-: No, I do NOT mean "Princess"!

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* She'll have put in two and a half years before kindergarten!

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You may enjoy my previous M- conversations, J- conversations, and (7YO son) D- conversations.

Things that amuse me, Vol. 3

Here, as the title might suggest, are a few of the things that have been amusing me lately:

1. They should print the tags of children's clothing in the front, so my kids might accidentally put some on properly one day.

2. This is a scrap I found from at least a year ago, about a Camry radio commercial I'm absolutely certain they're no longer running:

Totally Sincere "Customer" Voiceover (the culmination of a series of praises about the Camry's dependability and consistent reliability, including "It's good to know there are some things you can still count on"): "When I'm stressed out about something, I sneak out to the garage and look at the Camry, and I feel better."

Well, I have a Camry, myself, and let me tell you, much as I've always liked it [and still do!], this has never worked for me.

3. With the way he's been behaving lately, my 5-year-old son D- sitting up alone in his room playing his harmonica makes me picture him rotting in a cell singing, "No-booody knooooows, the trouble I've caused / No-booody knows but my-teacher-the-principal-the-bus-driver-my-parents-other-kids'-parents-my-grandparents-their-grandparents-and-just-about-everyone-ellllllllse".

4. I feel like I need to hang an announcement around my daughter's neck, to cover me in case of my untimely demise, that reads, "She dressed herself today."

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No, Babe won't give you herpes

Consider this post an early Mother's Day present for my mom, who for the past two weeks has been ranting about how inane the swine flu hysteria is almost as fiercely as I do about random things like the suddenly high percentage of crossword puzzle clues relating to rap/hip-hop in the Tribune lately.*

I've endured this "swine flu" nonsense for about as long as I can take, and while I usually steadfastly ignore fads that try to compel me to acknowledge them with at least outrage or satire, I just couldn't resist after reading this article:

Flu fears alter life at U.S. universities

No, the take-home lesson of this article is NOT how easily life can be drastically thrown off its axis by overhyped paranoia spread by 24-hour news outlets,** but rather how little a college degree is apparently worth in America today.

To celebrate the latest inductees into the elite club that is the enormous percentage of our extremely populous country that has graduated from college, the wizened elders of the prestigious Northeastern University scrambled to make sure there were sufficient quantities of anti-bacterial lotion on hand at the graduation ceremony Friday to combat the (excruciatingly inefficient, it seems) killer virus that has so many people helpfully pitching their pork chops into the trash heap these days.***

Neighbor dogs have never eaten so well! And they won't again until the killer bacteria, perfected by the hyperactive evolution chamber that is our modern "anti-bacterial" society, finally emerges to leave us all as main courses in the Gutter Buffet our dogs will treasure until the germ can tweak itself enough to take them out, too.

Happy Wednesday!!

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* I pick an example like this just because I don't want to dare imply that she's even flirted with the intensity of my rants about the few things that matter more than my weekly State Of The Crossword speech.

** So far, this new strain of known flus has proven to be equally as infectious as every other common flu virus, and, by my observation, dramatically less lethal. So if you haven't died from a flu in the past, even if a few viruses manage to perform the near-impossible feat of getting past your force field of Purell, you probably won't die this time, either.

If you HAVE died from a flu in the past, well, let me apologize for my smarmy tone, and also for the overly chewy texture of my precious, delicious BRAAAAAAIIIINSSSSS!!!

*** Just to re-state for the record, and not because I have any particular love for the pork industry, eating pork can NOT give you any kind of swine flu. If you're worried about eating the flesh of an infected animal, your biggest concern should be nothing more than whether that pig's final coughing fits toughened up the meat too much and made it slightly less delicious than that of its blissfully immobile and fatty compatriots.

Your post title is on its way!

Upon reading the slip of paper (I can't even bear to call it "a fortune") hidden inside one of our fortune cookies recently, I knew I had to ridicule it in print, in the probably vain hope that whoever wrote it might know how much shame they have brought upon themselves and their already-pretty-pathetic profession.

As lame as the so-called fortunes usually are, given that they are often either blind guesses at facts about your present or past, or generic bits of reassuring advice, this one takes the stale cookie.

After barely rescuing this paper from the furious snatches of my starving litter of rabid fox kits, I had to allow my eyes a second chance to focus on the words before reading them again in disbelief. I was insulted with the following message, which isn't even worth adding "...in bed" to (as discussed in this past post):

Your fortune is on its way!

What is this, some kind of sick karmic IOU? Call me a self-absorbed, overreacting prick, but I declare this to be absolutely Unacceptable as a fortune. I reject it and demand a replacement, or at least immediate delivery of the actual fortune promised by this one.

Also, I demand a bag of free cookies to dull my rage, but not the awful ones-- the good ones that people are always expecting when they bite into a fortune cookie, assuming anyone still makes those.

I suppose I should be grateful they used the correct its... Otherwise police all along the multi-state cookie supply chain might be desperately chasing the aptly named Stale Cookie Impaler.

Classic quotes, Vol. 11

Here is the latest batch of quotes from around here, this time from my 4-year-old son D- and my freshly 2-year-old daughter M-:

M- (irritatedly, after kissing my cheek): You supposeda shave!

D- (not holding a cup...): I'm very thirsty, that's why I'm drinking the 'drink in my mouth'.

M- (pointing to my bare chest at the breakfast table, reviewing a recent lesson from J-): THAT'S not breasts...*

D- (after fearsomely growling and punching the shower wall): Hey! Wow, that hurts!!

M- (in a cute, timid voice, while J- is lecturing her): Ummmm... I can do... whatever I want.

D- (anytime he's truly frustrated at an inanimate object): That's just IDIOTS!

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* Yes, I'm aware that this is the second remark I've recently recorded of M- pointing at my bare chest, but what can I say? Shirts and socks are for people who leave the house.

Also, I want to note that it's good to know I'm still at least in good enough shape not to offer her any confusion on the breast issue.