“Daddy’s Home!”

I love my blog.  I’m spending so much quality time with it today, and therefore you, my anonymous blog reader.

So, the doorbell rang and I gave my standard, “Don’t answer it!” which N disregarded.  I can’t say no to kids selling stuff door-to-door, but was still in my bathrobe.  E was upstairs with me brainstorming what his blog will be named… 

E: “My Poop!”

Me: No

E: How about just “Poop!”?

Me:  No

E:  “KakkaPoop”?

DING-DONG!  Saved by the bell!

Then I hear N shout, “Daddy’s home!” and he helpfully opened the door for him…

“You went to the grocery store!  Now we’ll have a wider array of foods to choose from!”  Right now the array consists of mustard, BBQ sauce, Salsa, cheese and baby carrots.  We can’t even make Peanut Butter Sandwiches, for crying out loud.

E just came upstairs to tell me that daddy got a load of ice cream.  N and E are down there sorting the food into categories.  I should probably go help.


  1. Kathie said,

    March 27, 2010 at 10:21 pm

    “I gave my standard, “Don’t answer it!” ” Ah – so I’m not the only one who does that!

    • Amy said,

      March 28, 2010 at 5:52 am

      Same here. Until one day a cop was looking in the window, so we had to!

      • Kim B. said,

        March 28, 2010 at 2:33 pm

        A cop? What happened? Finding the police looking in the window is kind of strange. I guess there’s no way to get out of answering that doorbell!

        When we first moved to this house we had the fire department here a few times due to the previous security system having a glitch and the back-up whatever alerting the fire department (randomly) that our alarm was activated. Not fun.

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