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Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Why Santa is skipping our house this year: Volume 3

If you want to get caught up on Audrey's transgressions this holiday season, here's Volume 1 and Volume 2. Merry Christmas, everyone!

For a while there, Audrey turned herself around. Her behavior improved markedly, and it looked like Santa's visit was back on.

But now, I'm not so sure.

Here's a list of her most recent offenses:

She assaulted me repeatedly when I tried to lie down next to her and close my eyes for a minute

This past Saturday night, Audrey was awake for several hours in the middle of the night. I don't know exactly what her problem was, but it wasn't solved by milk, cuddling, a fresh diaper, or a dose of Tylenol. My bag of tricks was officially empty.

Eventually, she did go back to sleep, but then woke up at her usual 5AM the next day and was a cranky handful the entire day.

At one point in the afternoon, we were on the floor together playing Lego, and I pulled a pillow down off the couch and laid myself down next to her. I closed my eyes and told her that "Mommy just wants to rest her eyes for a minute."

A few seconds later, I was clubbed in the head with the lid off her tub of Legos. A minute after that, I opened an eye to see the entire bucket of Legos being held inches above my face by a pair of weak, wobbly baby hands. She NEVER picks up the whole Lego bucket. This was the first time I had ever seen her do it, and of course the goal was to drop it on me and probably give me a concussion. I got out of harm's way just in the nick of time.

She then started "tapping" my ribs to get me to sit up. By "tapping" I mean "punching." When that didn't work, she laid down on her back across my face. I mean literally flopped her entire body across my face. She also picked my nose, pulled my hair, and coughed into my eye.

No rest for the wicked? How about no presents for the naughty?

For a visual representation of how this "nap" went for me, this GIF here is the most accurate thing I have ever seen. Dear God. The baby flopping across its mother's face is exactly what Audrey did to me.

One of her presents gets a little bit more unwrapped every time I see it

I don't know what it is about this one present, but she is constantly going over to the Christmas tree to mess with it. The other day, I noticed a small tear in the corner of the present ... and the next day, I noticed the tear had become larger.

No presents before Christmas, child.

And if you keep up at this rate, NO PRESENTS AT ALL!! Mommy will keep whatever is in that princess package!

She threw ketchup-covered food everywhere because she was angry I wouldn't give her any of my Coke Zero

This one really was my own fault. I knew she would want the Coke Zero as soon as she saw it, but I somehow convinced myself that she was occupied enough with her dinner that she wouldn't notice it.

Oh, she noticed all right. And the meatballs flew, and dinner was canceled, because any time I put her plate back within reach, more bits of ketchupy meatballs became airborne.

Please note that she has never tasted Coke Zero and has no idea what it is. All she knows is that Mommy seems to like it, which means it must be a far sight better than the shitty dinner she's been provided with.

She made me miss my work holiday luncheon

Okay, this one was completely not her fault. She came down with a fever, so I had to leave work to go pick her up and miss the holiday luncheon scheduled for that day.

On the bright side, I got lots of extra baby snuggles, which totally made up for it. Didn't make up for any of the other crimes on this list, though.

Aww, poor sweet sick little baby ...
Wait, you threw meatballs at me and tried to brain me with a tub of Legos. YOU'RE NOT GETTING OFF THAT EASILY.

She lied, cheated, stole, and bribed her way onto Santa's "Nice" list

Look, I don't know how she did it. All I know is that this piece of artwork came home from daycare yesterday: 

There's simply no way. I don't know what you did to get Santa to agree to this, but I'm almost positive it was immoral at best, illegal at worst.

She aggressively hinders my efforts to stuff and fold her clean cloth diapers

I've written before about how Audrey wears pocket cloth diapers to daycare, which require me to stuff these absorbent inserts into waterproof outers after every wash. This task is a pain in the ass and I hate it.

You know what makes it even better, though? When Audrey steals the diaper pieces as I'm working and stuffs them into a box in the laundry room.

I caught her on video. Here you see the work zone where the pile of diaper pieces waits to be assembled ...

... and then you see Audrey, surrounded by stolen diaper fillings, deciding which stolen diaper outer piece should be stuffed into the box first.

Christmas is in two days, child. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.

If you want to get caught up on Audrey's transgressions this holiday season, here's Volume 1 and Volume 2. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Friday, December 19, 2014

Christmas songs whose lyrics I misunderstood because I'm an idiot

It's well known that I'm an idiot. Here is further proof:

"Jingle Bell Rock"

So there's a line that goes like this:
Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet
Jingle around the clock
Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet
That's the jingle bell rock

And I am such a moron that for most of my entire life, I pictured "jingle around the clock" as a group of people literally dancing in a circle around a large grandfather clock. Like a conga line.

He jingled too hard.


"Christmas Song (Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire)" 

This song opens like so:
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like Eskimos

My idiocy this time around? Instead of it saying "AND folks dressed up like Eskimos," I thought it said "OF folks dressed up like Eskimos"

You know, a racially insensitive choir of folks dressed up like Eskimos singing yuletide carols while a bunch of well-meaning white people whisper to each other that this seems a little bit "off" to them.

Wow guys. "Eskimo" isn't even the proper nomenclature anymore.

While I'm on the subject of Christmas songs that confuse me, can we talk for a minute about "Here Comes Santa Claus"?

This is a song about Santa Claus. You know, the big fat bearded guy in a red suit who delivers toys to nice children. Not to be confused with Jesus Christ, Son of God.


So let's give thanks to the Lord above
'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight

Wait, do Santa and Jesus know each other? Are they bros? Does Jesus give Santa some gentle ribbing about his weight, while Santa urges Jesus to loosen up and have some gingerbread? Is the North Pole supposed to be Heaven? Is Jesus somehow responsible for Santa's existence? If so, thanks Jesus!

Now I'm just imagining the newest testament: The Gospel of Santa.

"And Santa said unto the Lord, 'Ho ho ho. Let he who is nice receive my gifts, and let he who is naughty receive coal.' And the Lord said unto Santa, 'Sounds good.'"

And don't even get me started on Michael Bublé's version of "Santa Baby." I'm not sure flirting with Santa is gonna get you what you want, pal. You may be barking up the wrong tree.

Unless ... has Mrs. Claus just been a beard this whole time?

This changes everything. EVERYTHING.

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

How (not) to encourage a child's love of reading

Audrey LOVES having books read to her. Her idea of a perfect world would just be sitting on someone's lap while they read her books all day long, with regular breaks for snacks and juice. Even if she's in Level 5 Meltdown mode, sit down with a book and she'll be happier than a pig in shit.

However, as with everything Audrey does, there have been plenty of mishaps and misfires along the way. Here are some of the ways that her love of reading has blown up in my face:

When she wants you to read her a book, it is not f***ing optional

When it's time to read, Audrey becomes a rude and demanding tyrant.

I might be sitting on the floor with her, playing Legos or whatever, and then she will suddenly stand up and head over to her book pile, picking whichever one she wants to hear at that moment. And she will bring it over to me and throw it at my face.

I imagine if she could talk real words, she'd be saying something like "Read me this book, peasant."

And I do. I always do.

And if you think there are activities that exempt you from reading for a moment, think again.

"Oh hi, are you busy?"

"Just whenever you get a chance."

(and for the record, I was peeing, not pooping. I wouldn't put a photo of myself pooping on the internet. A drawing, sure, but not a photo. I have at least that much self-respect)

She thought that the Miracle on 34th Street DVD case was a book, and became furious when we would not read it to her

I shouldn't say "thought", as that would imply that this happened in the past. Audrey still thinks the Miracle on 34th Street DVD case is a book, and no matter where I hide it, she finds it and follows me around the house whining and throwing it at me. I have opened the case many times to show her the DVD inside it, but it doesn't seem to make any difference. She thinks it's a book, and dammit she wants someone to read it to her.

"Also, if you could read me this rental book, that would be great." 

"Just picking out which rental book I would like you to read me next."

She thought a wrapped present under the tree was a book, and became furious when we would not read it to her

Now, in her defense, the present is in fact a book. But it is not for her, and it is wrapped in Christmas paper and festooned with a shiny red bow. How in the hell did she think we were going to be able to read it to her? It doesn't even open!

Still, she keeps going back to the tree and taking this gift, following Jesse and me around the house in a desperate bid to get us to ... what, unwrap it and read it? She doesn't care about any of the other presents -- just the book. The kid loves reading.

She became enraged when I would not read her "When the Mob Ran Vegas: Stories of Money, Mayhem and Murder"

Just so we're clear, this 240-page book was on my bookcase upstairs, wedged tightly between copies of "Catch-22" and "Taking Charge of Your Fertility." I don't know how she even got it out of there, but she did, and she wants me to read it to her.

At one point, I thought if I sat her down and started reading it, she'd realize it was way above her level (and no pictures!) and she'd lose interest. And I was right -- she lost interest for about thirty seconds. Then she was right back to throwing the book in my face.

Total kids' book for sure.

... especially the back cover:

Her favorite book is a photo album filled with nothing but pictures of her

She is so obsessed with this book that I actually had to hide it from her, because she will go through it on her own and bend/rip all the pages. When we do sit down together to read it, she just points at picture after picture saying "ah-tee", which is her version of her own name. If I'm in one of the pictures, I say "where is Mommy?" and she just points at herself and says "ah-tee." If I take too long to turn the pages, she screams. She wants to look at all the pictures of herself, goddammit!

I honestly don't know where she could have possibly gotten this narcissism. Jesse and I are both so famously self-effacing.

Haha get it? Because we're flamboyant narcissists as well, but I'm being adorably self-deprecating about it?? That shit is hilarious. Laugh, bitch.

She uses books to make me feel inadequate as a mother

I have mentioned before that Audrey once pulled hard at my heart strings by toddling across the kitchen crying while clutching a copy of "Are You My Mother?" But she got me even worse the other day: toddling across the kitchen crying while clutching a copy of "Who Loves Baby Audrey?"

"Does anyone?"

So of course I dropped whatever I was doing and sat down on the floor with her ... and all she did as we flipped through the book was point at the pictures of her damn self and say "ah-tee!"

At least Audrey loves baby Audrey. You're on the right track, kid.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

Totally legit product reviews: Eyeliner tattoo (and penguin drawings)

(this post isn't particularly funny, so I have added some drawings of penguins doing penguin things to liven up the joint)

Since getting eyeliner tattoos is kind of an unusual thing to do, I thought it would be wise to write up the whole experience in case anyone is on the fence about it. Or never considered it before this very minute but suddenly wants it really badly. Or just enjoys reading about people having needles buzzing millimeters from their eyeballs.

This is not a drawing of a penguin, though. This is an eyeball. A big fake eyeball.

I had toyed with the idea of getting this done for YEARS, but never followed through on it. Imagine how great it would be to wake up first thing in the morning and look at least partially well put together! Days when you're sick as a dog -- you look good. Days when you got 5 minutes of sleep -- you look good. Just ran a marathon? Looking fabulous. Just had a baby and haven't put on makeup in a month? Don't worry -- you look good.

Sweat won't melt it. Sleep won't melt it. Crying won't melt it.

Friends, having eyeliner tattooed on has a great many benefits.

This penguin is smokin a doobie.

When I finally decided to pull the trigger, I just googled "cosmetic tattooing" and found that there is woman who does it in Seattle, with excellent reviews (If you're curious, the place was called "Another You Permanent Cosmetics" and the tattooer is a lady named Danette Proszek). I called her to ask about pricing and to talk about the procedure. 

She told me that the cost to have both top and bottom eyeliner tattooed was $550, so it's certainly not cheap. The tattoo is supposed to look fantastic for around 5 years, after which point it may need to be touched up. But given my tendency to wear clothes 10 years after they should have been donated and eat food a week after it should have been thrown away, I'm guessing I'll get at least 15 years out of this before I feel the need to get it touched up. 

She also told me that she would use a numbing agent before tattooing, since it would be borderline impossible to do such a precise tattoo so close to someone's eyes without it. This made me feel better about the whole thing -- after all, I have quite a few tattoos, so I know exactly how it feels to get inked without numbing agent. I couldn't imagine holding perfectly still while my eyelids were tattooed.

It was Friday when I called, and she said a cancellation had left her with an appointment available for the following Monday. I gulped and said I'd take it.

This penguin is eating birthday cake.

On the day of my appointment, I showed up wearing my normal amount of eyeliner, as the tattooist needs to get an idea of what you consider "normal". Maybe you prefer to look really natural; maybe you prefer to look like an 80s transvestite -- she doesn't judge. I normally wear a pretty thick line of dark brown on my top lid, and the lightest possible wisp on my bottom lash. I also usually draw the line out past my eye a bit, making a subtle cat eye.

You know ... subtle.

Danette immediately broke the news that the cat eye would be impossible with a tattoo. First off, the skin right at the outside corner of your eye is so incredibly thin, trying to tattoo it would be a nightmare and it wouldn't last at all. And secondly, there's the whole ageing thing to take into account: if she draws a cat eye extension right now, it might look like this:

But as I get older and gravity starts to pull on my eye skin, that cat eye is gonna start to make me look like an even bigger sourpuss than I do already:

Other than that, she said my usual eyeliner would be fine.

We filled out the forms and she took a "before" picture. She then drew the eyeliner on with a marker and showed it to me in a mirror for my approval. And then it was go time.

The whole thing started out with the numbing, and let me tell you, the numbing was the worst part by a thousand miles. Oh god, my eyes are watering right now just remembering it. The fumes from the numbing agent waft directly into your eyeball, and it's like someone is chopping a very pungent onion an inch from your eyes. The tears flow like ... like tears from the eyes of someone who is having lidocaine applied four millimeters away from them. I was not allowed to hard blink -- just those delicate little fluttering butterfly-kiss kind of blinks were the only respite I got. It was awful.

This penguin has changed his mind. Good job, penguin!

But the numbing thankfully didn't take long. Within a few minutes, my lower lids on both eyes were numbed enough to start tattooing. As for the tattooing itself, I honestly didn't feel a thing. Just vibration as the tattoo gun buzzed next to my eye. The worst part of this was that 1) I had to hold my eye open no matter what, which became increasingly difficult as the skin got more and more irritated and swollen; 2) she had to wipe the skin with a moist towelette every few seconds, which felt indescribably weird and gross on my numbed skin. It felt like the towelette was somehow removing my skin entirely, as if there'd be nothing left but eye socket and bone afterwards. It was a bizarre sensation.

It took about 15 minutes to complete the bottom lid on my right eye, and then she started numbing my upper lid (which was a blessed relief, as I was allowed to gently close my eye. No fumes!!) She then got the left lower lid knocked out and moved back over to get the top right.

The top lids took a lot longer than the bottom, simply because there was a lot more ink being applied there. But I got to keep my eyes closed, so I didn't mind. At times, when the needle was flush against my eyelashes, it felt as though she was about to tattoo my eyeball itself. And of course, she was a perfectionist. This kind of tattoo is so visible that it's critical it be done perfectly. And this meant that every time she thought she was finished, she'd notice one more spot that wasn't quite as dark as it should be or that wasn't quite as smooth as it should be, and she'd say "hang on, just one more spot here." I think I got "one more spot"ed at least five times per eye. It was cruel.

At long last, top and bottom lashes on both eyes were finished. When I left the office, it was an hour and a half after I had first arrived -- so an hour and a half to fill out paperwork, take pictures, get numb, get the tattoos, and get cleaned up afterwards. Not too bad.

This penguin is riding a unicycle.

The drive home was ... interesting. While my eyes themselves were fine and my vision was not impaired, my eyelids were very swollen and felt heavy, like I'd just had a hard cry. I looked like I'd been pepper sprayed at a goth club -- big red swollen eyes with very VERY dark, very thick, very black eyeliner around them. I had to wear sunglasses to drive, and when I stopped at the store on the way home, I wore my sunglasses inside as well. It seemed better to be thought of as the kind of weirdo who wears sunglasses indoors, than to be the kind of weirdo who gets stung by bees on their way home from a Marilyn Manson concert.

I took this picture of my eyes as soon as I got home, and if you can't tell how swollen they are, compare them to this picture of my eyes that I just took today:


The next day, they were still swollen, but not nearly as badly. I did have to apply Vitamin A&D ointment to the tattoos with a Q-tip, and of course it all ended up gooping up in my eyelashes and making me look like I had an eye infection. But no matter -- it was done! Within a few days, the tattoo was completely healed and looked amazing.

Eyes Day 2: still swollen but not quite as disfiguringly so:

Fully healed, just woke up in the morning and haven't even combed my hair yet shot:
But the EYES look fantastic! The rest of me will need a lot of work.

Four weeks later, I went in for my touch-up. Since the eyes swell up so dramatically while they're being tattooed, it can be really hard for the artist to tell if they're truly even while she's working. So everyone has to come back for a touch-up once they're fully healed. Mine definitely had a couple of places that were not even, and I decided I wanted a bit more thickness at the outside of the top lashes.

The touch-up was a breeze compared to the original process. I was in and out in under an hour, and my eyes look awesome now.

Close-up of the eye with absolutely no additional makeup on:

And seriously -- I haven't worn anything but mascara since then. Life is good.

Here I am today, at work, wearing NO MAKEUP AT ALL:

Now I just need to get laser hair removal and I can self-actualize to maximum laziness!

This penguin agrees 100%.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Thoughts that crossed my mind that instantly regretted

Have you ever just been minding your own business and then all of a sudden some thought crosses your head that's like "wow, wouldn't it be scary/awful if _______ happened right now?" and then for the rest of your life, you can't do that activity without that exact same thought popping back up into your head?

Of course you have! These are called "intrusive thoughts" and they're a rip-roaring riot of a good time. Wouldn't it be crazy if I just jerked this steering wheel suddenly and crashed into those five other cars before careening off a cliff? LOL you know it would!

Let me just share my personal least favorite intrusive thoughts with you right now, in case any of these hadn't been in your head already, so our lives can all be ruined together.

Wouldn't it be scary if the shower curtain just suddenly jerked open while you were home alone taking a shower?

Y'know, just washing up in the shower when suddenly the curtain jerks open. Nobody is there. At least, nobody you can see.

Was it a ghost demon, or was it a rapist/murderer? I HONESTLY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHICH IS PREFERABLE.

"You ... you can't figure out if I'm better than a murderous rapist?!?!"
Ahh, I do miss our ghost.

Wouldn't it be awful if there was a snake in the toilet bowl when you sat down to pee in the dark in the middle of the night and it jumped up and bit your bum?

I never turn on the light when I pee in the night, because the window in our bathroom provides plenty of light to see by. That is, plenty of light to see the toilet itself by. Not enough light to see if there are any snakes waiting to bite my bum.


(while driving at night) Wouldn't it be terrible if you rounded a bend and there was a person standing in the road, and you didn't have time to react so you hit and killed them?

Even though it wouldn't be your fault, you'd still have to live the rest of your life knowing that someone is dead because you killed them. It would replay over and over every time you closed your eyes, like one of those stupid screamer videos. And on dark winding roads, there is NO way you'd have time to react. They say people sometimes commit suicide in this way, dressing all in black and standing in the middle of a dark road with a high speed limit. And now I will be afraid of this happening every time I drive under these conditions for the rest of my life.

This image is from the scariest tire advertisement I have ever seen in my life. Which is a low bar, but trust me when I say it is f***ing terrifying. It's Japanese for chrissakes. If you want to watch it, click here. You've been warned.

Wouldn't it suck if there was some kind of critter hiding under the bed or under the baby's crib, and it ran up and bit your toes while you stood next to it?

This one always gets me when I lay Audrey down in her crib. She has blackout blinds in her room so it's always dark as hell in there, and I have to get right up next to the crib with my toes under it to lay her down. And every time, I'm like "oh I hope rats don't bite my toes" because my brain is an asshole.


Wouldn't it be horrible if while you were rinsing the shampoo out of your hair in the shower, some kind of plumbing emergency caused sewage to start slowly rising out of the drain but you didn't notice until you opened your eyes and by then it was ankle deep?

This happened in Orange is the New Black and it was terrible and don't even try to tell me you're not gonna think about it now. Poo-water to the ankles. Warm poo-water.


Well, that's today's blog post for ya. Ummm ... I apologize for it. For all of it. Here is a cute puppy sleeping in a shopping cart.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

A collection of Santaurs

Today's post is a combination of all my favorite things: terrible drawings, creating hybrid monster creatures, and SANTA CLAUS! Hooray!

Here are some creature lower halves with Santa upper halves. If you have any questions, the answers are almost exclusively going to be "I have no idea." But I encourage you to ask them anyway.

 I just realized I messed up the color on Santa's sleeve, but I'm definitely not going to go back and fix it.

 That's his rattle, you perv.

 Oops, I forgot to color the sleeves at all on this one. Don't tell anyone -- maybe they won't notice.



Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Why Santa is skipping our house this year: Volume 2

Volume 1 here

I know what you're thinking: it's only been a week since the first volume ... how can I already have another full list of disciplinary infractions to share? 

Because Audrey is EXTREMELY F***ING NAUGHTY.

Here's her latest list of unacceptable acts:

She FaceTimed my coworker from my phone at 5AM on Thanksgiving

Audrey is iPhone obsessed. She sees that everyone has one and uses it all the time, so of course she wants to play with the fun electronic device as well. Up until recently, I have indulged her in this -- within limits. She never gets to take my or Jesse's phone unsupervised, and if she does anything risky (like open up Facebook or start moving app icons around), I take the phone away and lock it. Mostly she just hits the home button over and over again, and types random shit into the search bar.

So it's Thanksgiving morning, and Audrey has woken up at her usual 5AM. We bring her into bed with us for our morning snuggle-slash-please let me sleep for like ten more minutes. I grab my phone to check my email, and then Audrey takes it away from me and starts obsessively hitting the home button. She is literally leaning against my chest with the phone less than a foot away from my face, and I can see the screen. Home button, home button, home button, home button, home button. The screen isn't even unlocked.

And then somehow I hear that unusual ringing tone the phone makes when it is calling someone via FaceTime, and I see that the person she is FaceTiming is a coworker of mine who I am not particularly close with.

I snatch the phone away from her and immediately end the call, but as I am typing a frantic "I AM SORRY" text message (hoping desperately that this coworker silences his phone at night), my phone rings -- my coworker no doubt calling back to see who died because otherwise why the hell would I be calling him at 5AM on a holiday. I answer and he's got that gruff just-woke-up voice. I apologize repeatedly, he assures me it's fine, and Audrey is no longer allowed to play with my phone at all under any circumstances.

I was mortified.

Santa will not be coming to town.

Also, how the HELL did she manage to go from pressing the home button while the phone displayed the lock screen to FACETIMING SOMEONE I NEVER CALL all in the space of .01 seconds? HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE.

She stole ornaments and hid them in the laundry room

Despite my concerns, I went ahead and hung ornaments on the Christmas tree after all. I figured that if Audrey didn't actually WATCH me hang them, then she might not be quite as interested in them.

Oh, she was interested all right. While I was in the kitchen cooking this weekend, Audrey embarked on a project whose purpose escapes me: taking ornaments off the tree one by one, walking them over to the laundry room, and throwing them on the floor. 

Please note that the laundry room and the Christmas tree are not right next to each other. There were plenty of other, closer places she could have decided to stash the ornaments. But no, the laundry room was it. That was where they belonged. 

She made four separate trips back and forth before we stopped her. Unknown how many ornaments would have ended up in there if we'd just let her do her thing.

You can tell how the battle for the Christmas tree is going by how many ornaments are underneath it, waiting to be re-hung. Because she takes them down faster than I can put them up.

She threw a knock-down blow-out temper tantrum because asparagus was heavy

Seriously. I was packing asparagus to bring to my parents' place to make pickles, and Audrey wanted to play with it. When she discovered that the bags were heavy, this happened:

You can practically taste the impotent baby rage.

I can only imagine how she'll react when something REALLY bad happens to her, like an idiot cuts her off in traffic or something.

She fed me a goldfish cracker that had clearly already been in her mouth

I was cooking in the kitchen, so I gave Audrey a little bowl of snacks to eat in the living room to keep her out of my hair. She was eating happily, and then decided that Mommy definitely needed to share in this bounty. So she carried a cracker across an entire room -- a marathon for a baby who's just learned to walk -- to give it to me, lurching like a zombie with her arm outstretched clutching the cracker that was destined for Mommy's mouth. When she got within range, I squatted down and opened my mouth, and she shoved the goldfish in there.

It was instantly obvious that the cracker had already been in her mouth. It wasn't salty anymore, and her saliva had left the whole thing covered in a thin layer of goldfish paste. In short, it was gross.

Half an hour later, when I was sitting on the living room floor with her, she pulled a goldfish out of her mouth and tried to give it to me, but I wouldn't open my mouth so she smashed it against my face instead.


She knocked the Christmas tree over

Trying to pull more ornaments off to bring into the laundry room, no doubt. The whole tree came down on top of her. She didn't even cry -- once she was pulled out from under the tree, she just sat there looking pleased with herself.

Not to worry, though -- this won't be happening again. Firstly, because I tied the tree to a weight and wedged the weight in the back of the couch. And secondly, because I've installed a security guard to keep her away. A very effective security guard.

So go ahead, pull that tree down again, Audrey.