Dim Sum Diaries
Note to self: When Self is an acknowledged smartass, the smartass gene is sure to be passed to Daughter as well.

Case in point: Yesterday Hubby and I had a minor disagreement at the mall yesterday. We had the kids with us, so when we drove home, I pulled into the driveway and parked and didn't say a word. I only turned and stared at Hubby with a killing, slow, steady glare. The kind of glare that said, you know you're wrong, why don't you just admit it and apologize before I make your life more of a living hell then it already is look (Hubby rightly apologized later).

Daughter took one look at us and intoned dramatically, "Look A (Son)! They're mad at each other but they're not saying anything! They're sending secret messages through their minds because they don't want us to hear! Daddy's head is going to blow up!!"

Okay she didn't say the Hubby's head blowing up part, but her comment cracked us up, so the mad moment was over.


It's also very true that the older I get, the bigger and granny-ish my underwear gets (because its so comfortable). As we were folding laundry, Hubby held a parachute sized undie in disbelief.

"What happened to all the sexy ones?" he asked...how like a man.

I, fresh from playing hours of Worlds of Warcraft could only reply, "Well I have two things of silk, I can fashion a silk underwear with +2 to sexiness to it..."