You wanna mess with me?

I'm supa gangsta! Whut? Whut?

The art of avoidance.

This monkey understands a lot. However, if you ask her to wash her hands or go to bed, she usually becomes temporarily deaf.

Case 1: Washing hands.

Me: Scarlett, your hands are dirty. See? Oatmeal. Let's go wash them. 

Scarlett with arms folded: Pair ("prayer")

Me: Okay, you can say a prayer. Then, we are washing your hands. Done?

Scarlett: No! Pair!

I had to pry her arms apart to get her hands washed! And she doesn't even fold her arms half the time that it is time for prayer!

Case 2: Night night time.

Me: Scarlett, go give daddy a hug and kiss. It's time for bed.

Scarlett usually runs away, says "nooooo" accompanied by a scrunchie face, points to anything trying to change the subject, or gets on her rocking horse.

Me: You better tell him night night, you're going to bed anyway.

Scarlett: nacks! ("snacks")

Me: No, we already ate dinner. You want more dinner?

Scarlett: [scrunchie face] noooooo.

The best was last night when Michael tried to put her to bed. She screamed and tried to squirm out of Michael's arms, "Mommy? Night night?" (she wanted to tell me good night, which Michael let her), and when she's back in her room her last ditch effort: "Poopoo!"

Michael: Did you go poopoo?

Scarlett nods.

Michael: Is your diaper dirty? Do we need to change it?

Scarlett nods again.

Michael: You better be poopy!

She wasn't poopy.

What happened to the Little who'd just chew on her feet? Look at that innocent face!

 Oh well, this one is quite entertaining! Plus, if I lose my wedding ring (or if she takes it off my nightstand), she'll excitedly go get it out of hiding if I ask her where my ring is. 

The rising generation.

A while back I had a super annoying clerk at Walmart. If you go to the Centennial one, he's tall, chubby, red hair, in his late teens, and talks way too much.

Red-headed duffus: So, how old are you? Like 15?
Me: Uh, no.
RHD: You're really short, no really how old are you?
Me: Thanks for pointing out the obvious. I've been married 5 years, you do the math for the youngest I could be. Then, add a little more.
RHD: So, like 21?
Me: No.
RHD: I've seen you in here before, and I always wanted to ask if she (Scarlett) was your little sister or something.
Me: Nope. She's my daughter. And I usually get asked if she's adopted, not my sister.
RHD: WHAT?!?! Why?
Me: .....Because....I'm Asian......and she's....white.
RHD: What does that have to do with anything?!
*At this point I was wishing I had either chosen a different line or gotten fewer groceries.
Me: Well, usually Asian-looking people have...Asian-looking babies.
RHD: So?? I don't get it. That is so ridiculous! [blabs on and on and on]
Me: K, bye!

I really wanted to let it roll off my shoulders...his stupidity really bugged me. I figured to do that I wouldn't blog about it.

Until last night.

It was late, just got done with mutual, I would rather go home, but we needed milk and a few other necessities...like brownies...and reese's pieces...

I get in the quick lane (which was oober long). Get half way through and realize who the checker was. *Dun dun duunnnn!* I went through my options: 1) Get in another lane even longer than this with people who's carts were overflowing, 2) Ditch my cart and call it quits, or 3) Hope he doesn't remember me. I mistakenly went with option 3.

RHD: I think you've been through my line before.
Me: I grocery shop pretty often. It wouldn't be a surprise.
RHD: Yeah, you look just as short as before.

The End.