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Monday, March 14, 2011

Stacey and Garrett's Day of Fun


At times I have to practice saying no to that face.

I have started a small routine, tradition, whatever with the boys and myself. If they are good, I take them to the ice cream shop. They call anywhere that has ice cream or frozen yogurt or anything frozen and cold, the Ice Cream Shop.

One day I was taking them both out for pizza and I said if they were good at dinner, I would take them to the Ice Cream Shop. Garrett was unpleased, “Every time we go out to dinner first there is never enough time to go to the Ice Cream Shop. Can we go get ice cream first?”

Garrett has a way of asking questions like this that he knows he probably shouldn’t be pushing his luck with but he has to ask just to make sure that your answer is going to be “No.” He looks at you with his eyebrows raised and this little grin on his face like “No harm in asking, am I right?”

Since he had the balls enough to ask, how could I say no? I couldn’t. And he had a point. They sometimes lose the privilege of ice cream by it being too late or by them acting so horrendously terrible at dinner, that they can no longer go (they have only been that terrible with me in a pubic place once, I will never speak of it). So from then on out whenever I take the boys anywhere for dinner, we get ice cream first. Saturday was no exception.

On Saturday I had Garrett (Whitman was out of town with Ron) pretty much the whole day and I took him YoLo before lunch. I had never been but I heard great things. It’s soft-serve frozen yogurt with every topping imaginable. You get your own toppings, however many you want, and they weigh it when you are done and charge you by the ounce.

I let him pick out his yogurt flavor of choice and then I pointed him in the direction of the toppings and I told him he can pick what he wants.

“I can only get one?”

“No. You can get whatever you want. Whatever you can fit in your cup, you can get it.”

“Are you sure?”

I assured him to go crazy with whatever it is that he wanted. He stood there for a second contemplating just what he was going to top his Cookies N Cream frozen yogurt with. He finally settled on gummy bears, pretzel M&Ms and rainbow sprinkles. That sounds beyond disgusting but whatever. Who am I to say what he can put on his yogurt? No one. That’s who (If anyone cares, I got California Tart yogurt with fruit. It was delicious). And if anyone is terrified that I let him have that much sugar, he did not finish all of it and I let him take it home.


Someone buy me the new iPhone...do it for the good of this blog

We sat down in the front of YoLo which is located in the super uppity “
Main Street
” portion of Collierville. It was warm out so I had on a sleeveless shirt. We were sitting in front of a huge window and Garrett and I were carrying on talking mostly about gummy bears. Out of the corner of my eye I see a little girl stop and start pointing directly at the tattoo on my arm, and then she made a comment about it to her mother. I didn’t pay any attention as this happens a lot to me in the warm months in Collierville (it was the second time it happened that day). I choose to ignore it when it happens. Garrett does not.

I saw him staring at the little girl, completely confused. He then asked me “What’s her problem?” I explained that at times people are a little put-off by tattoos. He admitted that that wasn’t nice and I agreed. He then turned to the little girl and her mother that were still standing there and pointed back at her and said, “It’s not nice to point!” Heh. That’s my nephew, I’ll keep him.

He really wanted Burger King for lunch and I did not want to take him there. I offered to take him anywhere he wanted to go and that is what he chose. Thankfully I convinced him to let me go through the drive-thru.

Once we were home and he ate his lunch we had a few hours to ourselves to do whatever. Garrett, like me, likes time to himself. I don’t smother him when I am watching him. I know that he won’t do anything too terribly horrifyingly awful so I leave him be, but I always check on him throughout the day. Sometimes I am sneaky about it.

Have you ever wondered what a five-year-old does by himself when left to his own devices? They dance.

I snuck downstairs after not hearing anything for a while just to make sure he was alive. I peeked around the corner to the living room only to see him full-out dancing to Big Time Rush. If you don’t know what Big Time Rush is, consider yourself lucky. It’s kind of like Hannah Montana for douchebags. It’s about a boy band that sings and dances. Terrible stuff. He loves it (dammit).

I would have loved nothing more than to speak up after finding him busting all kinds of toddler moves but I couldn’t do it. He would have gotten embarrassed and never danced again, and I don’t want that. Kids should always dance. Always.

Ron and Whitman got home and the Prewitt family went out for pizza. I stayed home as I like to have the house to myself from time to time. They got back and Christy told me that while at dinner Whitman said, “I missed Stacey (while he was gone). I love her. She’s my best friend.” Now, I ask you, did your heart not just melt like so much frozen yogurt?

I love you too, buddy!

So when people ask me what it’s like living with children and having to watch them from to time to time, let me tell you that there is nothing about it that isn’t pretty cool. I see them grow a little every day into two open-minded, amazingly cool kids. And the fact that I can take part in that is awesome. No, they aren’t my kids, but I sure love them like they are.




1 comments:

Sherrie Bee Bop said...

My froyo never melts because I eat it too fast. But that's beside the point, yes my heart did just melt. Nieces and nephews are the bestest everrr! My absolute favorite thing is when Emma sees me and her face lights up like a damn Christmas tree and the next thing I know she's running toward me with her arms open squealing "SHEWWIEEEEE!"

Also awesome: kids can't pronounce Sherrie and for the first few years, they ALL called me Aunt Shitty. That is me. Aunt Shitty.

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