Don't Hurt the Boy.

Today is the day before the first day of Spring Break...heaven help my children.

So this morning the dictator and I went to Sam's to buy an excessive amount of bananas, a new umbrella and dirt.

I decided this year that I wanted to expand our little garden, but after digging about a half an inch I realized that there is no soil in our yard, only clay.

Which means I needed dirt and Sam's sells it pretty cheap.

It wasn't until I needed to ask for help carrying my dirt to the car, that I realized how ridiculous the 20 something Sam's "dirt carrying assistant" must have thought this whole thing looked.

I tried to explain about the garden and joke about the clay as he was heaving the huge bags into my trunk, but I am pretty sure that I did not change his opinion...mostly because while walking away he said, "Good luck with your dirt mam" ...and spit on my shoe (no, not really).

I talked to Nick later and asked if I should have tipped the kid...I think Nick may have tried to strangle me through the phone, but just replied, "You DON'T tip the Sam's guy." and then had to go.

When I got home, I went to put up the umbrella...it was broken...COME ON!!! REALLY!!
...but I didn't want to run into the "dirt carrying assistant" again, for fear I might have to be called "mam" two times today, so I'll return it tomorrow.


The boy gets up really early in the morning...I am not a morning person.

Yesterday I told him to lie down until the clock said 7 - 1 - 0.  Then I closed my eyes, hoping to sleep a few more glorious minutes...

"Mama...6 - 4 - 8."
"Mama...6 - 4 - 9."
"Mama...6 -

BOY!! How can I sleep if you keep waking me up to tell me the numbers!!!

teeny tiny whisper voice...
"6 - 5 - 2"
"6 - 5 - 3"
"6 - ...

very loud, in my head voice...
Don't hurt the boy...don't hurt the boy...don't hurt..........