Why is it that my husband can play X Box 360 until 2 in morning but falls asleep at 9:30 while watching TV with me? I guess it's the interactive component. So does that mean I should try and kill him intermittently while we are watching our favorite show--to keep him on his toes? And how is it that the X Box 360 was Sage's birthday present but Alan got 4 games while Sage only got one?
Why is it that they made the kids go to school half way into June yet this whole week all they have done is watch movies? Why do the teachers think "Oh, standardized tests are done, I'm just a baby sitter now!" Isn't there something they could teach them this week? How about some important life skills like safety while cutting your parents lawn? or folding clothes and putting them in drawers? or killing, gutting, cleaning, and cooking a deer? or giving your mom a facial? or sewing your own damn button on your own damn pants?
And when was it that I became such a fuddy-duddy adult who thinks life should be about learning lessons and not playing games or watching Bill Nye the science guy for a week?
Who the hell says fuddy-duddy anymore?
Why is it that I think Sage being tardy yesterday is funny? I guess it's Van Halen's fault. It's just fun to dance around, point at him and sing, "Sage is tardy! Sage is tardy!" "Do you feel tardy? Because you are TA-A-A-Ardy!!" Sage did try and defend himself, "I was tardy because of you, mommy." Oh just because I made him carry a six pound bag of pretzels into class with him for the end of year party! What a whiner!
Why is it that bulk foods excite me so? I go to Costco and I just can't control myself. I want to buy like 3 months worth of food and then hole up in the house for the summer clinging to my guns and my religion. And a six pound bag of pretzels for five bucks seems like a great idea at the time until they make my 8 year old tardy.
Why is it that my cat takes about 5 minutes to heave up that hairball? I mean it's like huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack, huh-ack...and it disgusts me but I can't look away until he's done. And why is it that even though we have hardwood everywhere downstairs he always has to go to the rug to throw up?
And finally, why is it that I can't get that Soulja Boy song out of my head. I don't even know the words but I keep singing it anyway. Aaaaaaaaaah, Soulja boy da da da oh, wha wa ba ba wha wa rooooooolllll, wha wa crank that Soulja boy, Superman, la la la Ooooooohhhhhhhhh. And how many times will I have to watch it on You Tube to purge it from my brain forever...or to memorize it and learn the dance--whichever. Crank that thang.