Saturday, November 11, 2017

Dr Carlie is in

There's nothing like a funny family member to make me want to blog again. This latest story has a semi-new character, Carlie, the 2-year-old daughter of my younger sister, Mia. I sort of introduced her to you, my millions of readers, in this post from 2 years ago.

Me and Carlie, having none of this selfie nonsense
Anyway, little Carbaroni is in town for a while so we are all overjoyed. Carlie has grown up (well, sort of) to be an adorable girl who just won't stop talking until she gives in to sleep. Which can be good or bad, as I've learned from all my conversations with Carlie's cousins, Juancho and Martina, when they were younger. (I can link dozens of posts, but I chose just that one because it's past my bedtime. Please feel free to search my old entries from a time when I blogged regularly and furiously, and I was probably funnier. And thinner. *Sob*)

Today, I had to watch Carlie for a bit because her mommy was taking a much-needed nap. I was getting a bit sleepy myself so I had to end our catching and throwing practice (we used a tiny, fluffy dinosaur as our ball, but with my energy level, it felt like an oversized bowling ball ... on fire). We sat on the couch instead and she started to pretend to be a doctor examining me.

Oh no.

Because I've had countless experiences with too-honest kids and their evaluations of my body parts, I braced myself for the inevitable. After all, just a few months ago, a chatty and most entertaining 4-year-old girl told me – after a few minutes of careful observation and pinching – that my arms were, decidedly, 'too big'. She wasn't wrong.

Back to my niece.
Carlie: I look at your leg. 
Me: OK. It's big, right? 
Carlie: No, small.

(YES! Small victory! Literally!)

Carlie: The other one. 
Me: This leg is big? 
Carlie: No, small.


Carlie: I look at your tummy. 
Me (in mortal fear): OK. It's soft? 
Carlie: No, it's beautiful.

AWWWWWWW. Sniff. Thanks, Car.

Not all my blog stories have a weird ending, after all. 

(And I'll stop there before I tell you about the real ending of the night: her mini-tantrum during my futile attempt at brushing her teeth. When dealing with small children, just like the rest of life, you really can't win 'em all.)

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Martina is her mother's daughter

Even at the ripe old age of almost-11, Martina still gives me many reasons to blog. Yesterday proved it. And how.

I was hanging out with Juancho (who just turned 15! FIFTEEN!!!) and Marteens, each of us doing his or her own thing involving a screen of some sort. I was working, Juancho was watching a sitcom and Martina was playing some modern revival of the Nokia snake game (I hated that damn game).

Martina has never seen the cartoon version, can you believe it?
Then, without provocation, Martina started singing with all her might from "Beauty and the Beast":
Course by course!!! 
One by one!!!
'Til you shout ...
(To those who have no idea, the next line is supposed to be "Enough! I'm done!" ... but my niece thought it was ...)
Wahahahaaaaaa! Juancho and I couldn't stop laughing.

To be honest, I quite like how it rolls off the tongue. 'Til you shout tarantantan! "Do you want more bread?" "Tarantantan."

This really shouldn't surprise me because Martina is so much like her mother, my Ate, who also tends to mishear Disney lyrics. Three words: a pretty walk. (If you click that link, you'll see that this isn't the first time Martina has mangled songs either.)

Full disclosure: Martina cannot sing a single phrase of that movie correctly ("I need success!" is definitely NOT in the opening song "Belle" – figure it out), but life is short, and we must get on with the next story.

Another topic we discussed was Ate's height (hahaha sorry, Ate).
Juancho: What's Mom's height? 5'2"? 
Me: No way. I'm not even that height. I'm 5'1.75" and your mother is smaller. 
Juancho: She says she's 5'2". 
Me: Don't believe her. 
Juancho: Martina believes her. 
Martina: Of course I do. She buys me donuts.

End scene.

Happy mother's day?

Monday, January 23, 2017

Martina fires some shots

My 10-year-old niece Martina is turning out to be quite the loaded weapon. Of zingers. Not that this should surprise me, as I've documented many of these attacks in my blog throughout her life. But it's still quite shocking when I get hit.

Just yesterday, while I was in the car with Marteens and Ate, her mom, she fired two awesome shots targeted at very innocent victims – all within 5 minutes.

First victim: JUANCHO

Martina: Mom, Juanch has so many friends. 
Me and Ate: That's a good thing, Marteens! 
Martina: ... but I have more.


Second victim: ME

Me, longing for ice cream and aiming to make an announcement that I would treat them: You know what I REALLY want to eat right now? 
Martina: Everything. 
Martina: You like everything.


My advice? Run and hide.