Last night we pulled up to Em's house and Big Kid jumped out of the car and ran up to Em, who was standing there with her arms crossed and fire in her eyes.
Big Kid: Emme-
Em: BIG KID! How come you writed me a letter sayin' to stay away from the stayuhs? I NEED to be by da stayuhs, Big Kid, dat's how I swim. I like to stay near the steps, and you're writin' me letters telling me to stay off the stayuhs.
Big Kid: (flustered and confused, shoves the envelope with the offensive note, that she already read online, at her)
Em: I want to know why, Big Kid. Why you say to stay off da stayuhs?
Ashley: Em, he was telling you to be careful when you dive. That if you dive near the stairs you could get hurt.
Em: Well, I'm not divin' by the stayuhs, I'm just swimmin'. I don't want him tellin' me to stay off the stayuhs. Okay, Big Kid? Okay?
Big Kid: I wote you a letter...I'm sowwy.
Poor Big Kid didn't know that in the odyssey to get Em to swim, one of the biggest fights has been to get her off of the stairs. She thought he had jumped on the "get your ass off the stairs" bandwagon, when he didn't know anything about it. Poor guy, can't win.
Luckily, they forgot about it a few minutes later and we had a delightful evening.
Em's family is dog sitting for the family next door, and the dogs asked us to come over for some swimming, some barbecuing, and some enjoying their absolutely massive entertainment system and television. Some nice ass dogs, I tell you.
Today I'm getting ready for the orchestra. He didn't forget. No such luck.
Yesterday I reassured him that we were going:
Ashley: It's the brass section, so what kind of instruments will we see?
Big Kid: Da twumpet, da tuba, da fwench horn...
Ashley: The saxophone?
Big Kid: No, dat's a woodwind.
Ashley: No, Big Kid, it's brass.
Mr. Ashley: No, I think he's right, I think it is a woodwind because it has a wooden reed.
Ashley: Oh, whatever. Who knew you two were orchestra experts?
Big Kid: Saxophone is a woodwind, mudder.
So maybe I'll learn something about all of this orchestra crap in the meantime.
Right now I'm blogging with accompaniment from the harmonica. Have I told you all my new theory that you should have to be 18 to play the harmonica?
Why can't Bush pass some laws that would actually do us some good?