We’re hosting 10 people for Thanksgiving tomorrow, so I decided to pick up some poppers to decorate the plates.
Then, I flipped the box over and noticed it said “do not sell to anyone under 16”. I took another look, and I’d like to share with you all what comes inside of these poppers:
WTF, UK? Why would I want to give my guests mini-screwdrivers and carabiners? What, exactly, is wrong with paper crowns and plastic toys? And how am I going to explain to our guests, some of whom I barely know, why I gave them tweezers and staplers? Man, this is totally going on the list.
Thanksgiving in London is a bit…anticlimactic. The kids are at school, Will has Judo, my husband is at work, all the stores are open, and we are heading to a work dinner tonight while William and Penelope stay with a sitter. We’ll be doing a big dinner this weekend with our friends down the street, but in order to keep the day festive I sparked up a Glade cinnamon/apple candle and decided to put together a list of things I’m thankful for this year:
Poppy’s potty training adventure is not going smoothly (she actually peed her pants right when I started writing this). Since we waited until William was practically 16 to potty train him, I’m not used to this extended, protracted, poop-filled process. William pretty much woke up one day, said “I don’t wear diapers anymore” and stayed true to his word.
This one? This one will act completely offended when you ask her if she has to go potty, while a pool of urine slowly collects at her feet.
We are back from a week-long trip to Italy with my parents, and because we are all getting old I’ve been asked to write a brief synopsis of what we did and what happened. (For a full set of alllll the pictures you could ever want to see, go here).
Using a complicated barter system involving one candy for pee-pee and two candies for poo-poo, we are embarking on a potty training adventure with Poppy. Wish us luck.
In an unusual after-market transaction, we did give her one and a half candies for a poo-poo that landed immediately outside of the potty. Policies have since been revised to prohibit such trades in the future.
Too bad the only nail polish I had was hooker red.
Pajamas with tutu? Check.
Mouthful of bacon? Check.
Toe’s full of Essie’s Fifth Avenue? Check.
Back issue of New Yorker? Check.