Monkey Wrench

The Howler decided to sign up for afterschool intermural volleyball. On the very first day, she wrenched her neck. Apparently, her head zigged when her body zagged.

She calls me at work, 15 minutes before her Grandpa will be there to pick her up. Ugh. While I can here the pain in her voice, I also know my girl is a Drama Queen, so I have to quantify the Drama of it before I'll agree to leave work. Finally, I have no choice but to ask her, "do you neeeeeed ME to come?" Her final answer was, "Yes, I want you, Mom."

THAT doesn't happen often enough for me to be bored with it, so I scramble and call...and Grandpa has already left. I instruct the Gator to call him and tell him to wait there for me. I get there, and hot damn! The Howler really did pull something badly enough that she is in legit pain.

On the way home, while fully stopped at a red light, the Howler squeals in pain...and then tells me to "don't hit the brakes so hard." I tell her we are fully stopped, and that I AM TOO being careful with my driving!

I get her home and tell her that she has NO CHOICE but to do EXACTLY as I say. If it hurts as bad as all that, she will, for the first--and probably only--time in her life do what I say, when I say, how I say.

Miracles happen:  she actually does what I say, when I say, how I say. And then she tells me I'm right. (Which is why I'm documenting this here.) I manage to get her to giggle about "Duh de Mayo" and other G rated rants about general things.

Later in the evening, I tell her more what to do. And again, a short time later I get the payoff:  I am right. Twice in one day, she tells me I'm right.

I think she was high from the Tylenol.

Amazing

I have been in a state of high-level self-righteous piss off. I don't like it. And it's scary to think that I actually used to LIVE this way. All the time.

Anyway, tonight, I received an apology for how I was treated. Was it sincere? I believe so. And I feel better already. It's amazing, because an hour ago I was just about frothing at the mouth hurtangryinsane and swearing like a ... well, you fill in the blank.

That was part of the problem--treating people shitty is NOT how I know the people on the board to be. I would not have given my time and efforts to the PTA if they were. When there were others running things, I made myself scarce, because I knew this is what it would be like, and self-preservation (and realizing that high-level self righteous piss off is not a good place to be) making it easy to just shrug and walk away.

I still don't like how the trip is being handled. I think we have 3 queen bee wanna-bees deciding what they (and their snotty daughters) want, and doing that.

Now that I am calmer, I see that their letter actually states that they want every parent to help with fundraising for the trip. They want my money, and my silent support. They don't want my (or anyone else's) opinion and they sure as shit don't want my participation beyond what scraps they deign to toss our way.

I know 2 of the 3 women who are now making all the decisions for this trip. They were like this in high school, and they're like this now. They have no concept that they are snotty, nasty, self-serving *ahem* (yes, there IS a word I won't use here. Go figure. Betcha you know which one!) I'll be conserving my energy for the fight it will be for me to be allowed to be a chaperone, because I'm sure they'll "lose" and then "forget" that I signed up.

I already know that there are several kids who don't want to go to an amusement park, mostly because they don't ride the rides. Apparently, though, their opinions won't be needed, because, really? If they're not friends with these 3 women's spawn, they obviously aren't worth worrying about. I hope there's a revolt and the other parents totally take over the trip and these women find themselves with no power, no PTA funding, and no one but themselves to blame. That's a meeting I'll go to.

I wish the PTA president and his board Good Luck--I already know they're gonna need it.

Thanks for Nothing

This is a rant. I will be swearing (yes, the F-bomb.) So you've been warned.

The Howler is in 5th grade. This is our last year in the elementary school. Over the course of the past 5-point-something years, I have been Homeroom Mom, PTA Secretary, Fundraising Chairperson, and last year, I re did the by laws. One year, we even had a special spring event that I chaired. Totally made up, no previous year's guidance, blah blah blah. I have volunteered to take pictures for the yearbook, be on committees, and help at events and fundraising that didn't even effect my daughter, namely, sold hoagies and crap for 5th graders when she was not a 5th grader and help corral incoming kindergarteners when she wasn't one.

All of that is apparently nothing. And I received the thanks for all that nothing yesterday.

This year, I volunteered to be the chairperson for the 5th grade trip & recognition--I was told that the two usually go together and are done by the same person/people. I was also told to wait until the December meeting to begin any planning for fundraising, etc.

I missed the November meeting because we were supposed to go to Church Convention, and instead, I was sick. Not only did we miss going, but I also missed 3 days of work the following week because I was THAT sick.

The first notice of the 5th grade trip from the chairperson came home yesterday. It wasn't from me. It has a note at the bottom reminding parents that someone needs to organize and plan the recognition thing, too.

Now, I'm not mad that someone else is doing it (less stress for me) but I am fairly well pissed off (and yes, hurt) that no one could contact me BEFORE this fucking paper came home to inform me that someone else wanted to do it. I'm mad that I spent all that time and energy and effort to help re organize the fucking PTA when it had fallen apart. I worked at being nice to people to be sure that no one got treated this way. I spent time at fucking events that had nothing to do with me or mine, and sold shit so other kids could have a nice experience. I fucking dealt with OPK, and OP.

And I can't even get a fucking courtesy call to inform me that I've been replaced? I've been telling myself that it has been worth it, because when we did have problems, they were addressed quickly and while not always totally to my satisfaction, they were handled, and I wasn't (and the Howler wasn't) treated as some sort of fucking nuisance because I complained.

It's still a shitty thing for them to do.

And I'm wondering if I'm still the Homeroom parent for the Howler's class. God knows they wouldn't bother to tell me if I wasn't. The assholes.

Breaking News

Last evening, at approxiatmately 8:17pm, the Howler announced, "Duh. You & Mom are Santa."

The child has been desperately clinging to the myth that Santa is real, probably because she believes that when you stop believing, your gifts devolve into the realm of new socks and underwear, eventually dwindling to nothing.

Last year, she was adamant about polling everyone on their belief in Santa. Not one to lie, I told her I believe in the spirit of Santa. Considering her shaky history with the fat jolly old elf, we should have crossed this bridge ages ago.

In a nutshell, her history with Santa includes, but is not limited to:  9 months old at her first Christmas, she shrieked in fear when walking past the Visit Santa area of the local mall, with her aversion to all things fat, bearded and jolly culminating on a refusal to sit in a Santa shaped stuffed bean bag chair; a few years later when she stopped sleeping for fear Santa would pull a Charles Manson Family inspired creepy-crawl thru our house on Christmas Eve (gifts that year spent the night on the porch); the on-going fear of meeting the fat man in person, up to and including climbing up me like a Sherpa on Mt. Everest; the screaming and crying Christmas photo session at Walmart when the hapless photographer innocently announced, "Let's take your picture with Santa now!"; the near freak out experienced when the Toad, decked out in his brand new fancy Santa Claus suit, walked thru the house. Dude didn't even have the beard on yet because he knew the freak-out over Santa in the house was gonna happen; of the two photos I have of her with Santa, one features the neighbor's granddaughter, as it was the only safe way to get her there (don't let the neighbor kid know your pathological fears is a pretty strong motivator.)

To say I feel not one bit of sadness over this is an understatement. It stopped being fun for me years ago--I think the screaming fit at the Walmart photo booth did me in.

I'm not really looking forward to what has taken it's place, though. She has now adopted the stance of shadowing me relentlessly while asking what we got her for Christmas, and it isn't a whole lot more attractive. (Not that the adamant belief that we're bound to ruin her Christmas dreams by refusing to get her the stupid crap she desperately desires is much better.)

So, my little Howler, there is no Santa Claus. The world will go on spinning, and your parents will still by you good gifts.

Moody

The other day, the Howler informed me, "I think I'm going to start having mood swings."

REALLY?!

"Soon, like a YEAR AGO?" I asked.

We both laughed.

OUT OUT OUT!

The Toad moved out.

He didn't make it out of the yard.

He moved into the other side of the duplex we live in, that my mother owns. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! His landlord. Is. My. Mother.

In preparation for his big move, I made it clear to all parties that I will not be playing the Gator's flunky on anything. He doesn't pay his rent? I DON'T CARE. He doesn't do much housework? I DON'T HEAR ABOUT IT. She's unhappy because...oh, hell, why would she be happy? NOT MY PROBLEM!

He moved out just over a month ago. It's been great! I also don't have to answer questions about what he's doing, where he is...blah blah blah.

We see him more often. He's in a better mood. He's not here STINKING UP MY HOUSE.

His room is slowly being converted into a playroom/hang out room for the Howler. We're not going crazy here--we're not even going to any great expense to have it be livable. And it doesn't matter! Who's going to complain? The 10 year old OPK who are watching a movie in there? HAH!

Toad moved out. Life is good.

Growing Up

I haven't been blogging much.

And I actually have a pretty good reason for why.

The Howler is getting older. We've now hit the beginnings of the Pre-Teen things, and, especially for girls, there are some things that she'd probably rather I didn't blog about. So I have to scale back on some of the totally out there with it all stuff I usually rant about.

She's only 10, and things officially kicked off on her birthday back in March. Pity the poor man who lives with us.

The Apple Never Falls Far...

The Howler has been having a small issue with some chicklet on the bus calling her names and saying mean things.

The Howler has shared her frustration with me. I have been all over it--giving the right advice (I know, I know! How weird is that?) and telling her, first, to ignore and to be nice.

That didn't work. (Shock & surprise!)

So, I next suggested she talk to the bus driver, when they got to school, since nasty chicklet is on the bus before-and-after the Howler's stop. So, she did. Apparently, one of the teachers also heard this nasty girl say something mean to the Howler.

That remains to be seen. (the Howler gets to move her seat, no further questions asked.)

Hopefully, that solves the problem. If it doesn't, ol' Mama Mumple is gonna be involved.

But that's not really what this post is about. What this post is about, is this: The Howler, after a particularly trying day at containing herself, was horrid to be around. I sent her to her room, for general annoyance. She knows that if she's sent to her room for general annoyance, she can come out whenever she is ready to stop the annoyance and be as decent to be around as any one 9 year old can be.

She never came out.

I went up to talk to her, and see if we couldn't get whatever the bug was, out. We had a nice, non-annoying chat, and at the end, I stressed to her that I want her to find NICER, FRIENDLIER, less-confrontational ways to communicate with people. I asked her if she knew why.

She responded with: "so I can be not as mean and grumpy as you are?"

God, I love that girl.

On the First Day of School

My true love gave to me...

A Howler in the fourth grade.

*sigh*(will edit later to add pics.)

Heigh-Ho

It's off to Camp she goes...

Our regional church sponsors a week-long summer camp for kids and teens. The Howler was eligible to go last year, but the trauma of even talking about sending her meant that she just was not ready to go. We've spent the past year, getting her mentally ready to go.

This year, the decision was made that she IS TOO going, when we were polluted with requests to spend the night at Missy's, attitude out the wazzoo, and the fact that she had a fantastic year in AWANAs that ended in a sleepover.

We signed her up. We packed her bags, and Bear. We loaded her and her stuff into the car and took her, fully expecting to get halfway there and the wailing to begin.

There was no wailing. We got a lot of nervous silence. Once we pulled into the camp driveway, she began chattering like a spazzy little bird on it's first little adventure.

"There's a volleyball court? I'm good at volleyball." and "That's a very nice building. What do we do there?" and "The pool has a diving board! Mommy! I LOVE DIVING BOARDS!" and "Who stays in that cabin? and that one?" The litany went on for at least 20 minutes about everything and how terrifically nice it all looked.

We waited patiently in line to register her. I'm getting increasingly nervous about leaving her asthma there--not her, I know she's so very ready for this! Her asthma, though, that worries me, more than I like to admit, even to myself.

While My Sweetie and I are checking in the compressor and nebulizer and all the various things she needs (extra rescue inhaler, albuterol for the nebulizer, anti-itch cream, tylenol) and telling the nurse that "yes, she does know and we've stressed to her to speak up! and no, letting her use the nebulizer isn't a problem at all!") SHE DISAPPEARS. HER STUFF DISAPPEARED, TOO.

We look around, and she, her stuff, a two people from our home church who are also dropping off teens, are helping her lug her stuff to her cabin. WITHOUT US--you know, the people who knew she was ready for this, even when she said she wasn't.

We walk into the cabin, and are installing her stuff in one of the bottom bunks (the tops were all taken--which was okay, since the Toad told her that's where the bugs hang out) and next thing we know, she's WALKING AWAY in a gaggle of girls.

Not even Little Girls, mind you. These were FULLY FORMED GIRLS. Not obnoxious, giggling teens, not tarted up little girls that make me cringe...GIRLS. She's one of five this year, and OMG!

We had to force her to give us a hug goodbye. Unless no one has thought to tell us, she's STILL there--this amazing little girl who said she didn't think she could stay the entire week...STILL THERE.

Oh, and the best part ever? She told them her name, and added "but you can call me Kitty!"

She is her mother's daughter.

Ain't Right. Just Ain't Right

So it's summertime and the Howler, of course, needs a new swimsuit.

We finally manage to work out an agreement whereby she won't whine or pout while shopping and I won't act like a shrieking younger version of my mother.

Turns out that the Howler is also getting big enough, and developing enough, to need a training bra. Signs are obvious and instead of doing the usual Mumple denial-then-scramble, I embrace the darkside and go with it.

While trying on said bras, the Howler also shows me the spot where she lost a tooth last week: there is something seriously wrong with my baby girl trying on training bras while she still has Tooth Fairy money in her pockets (and the hole in her head where the tooth is starting to come in.)

Kill me. Kill me now.

Curiosity & the Cat

This Mama Cat is curious. And getting curiouser.

The Howler announced this morning, while getting her shoes on to head to school, that she needed to bring pencils today. "Miss 3rd Grade Teacher Thang said that there are no more pencils." And Mama is all "Say what?!"

Oh, not because it's unusual--our district is actually fairly unusual in that it still provides all that school supply stuff for the kids. At least at the elementary level, but because our district does unusually provide those things, I'm surprised that this is what the Howler is saying. I can remember (yes, even that far back!) being in elementary school and the teacher telling us that pencils aren't an unlimited supply and that we need to turn in a stub of a pencil to get a new one (teaches responsibility and keeps ya from spending all day wandering over to the sharpener 'just cuz') but to say that there are absolutely no more pencils coming from the district? (and for the record, I don't have a problem sending pencils in with the Howler. I'm so polluted with pencils I'll send 'em for the entire 3rd grade if they need 'em.)

I'm seriously starting to think that Miss Thang is a tyrant. Who thinks that misrepresenting reality is the best way to endear herself to future generations. God Help Us.

Good thing my boots are now all shiny and ready to go.

Updated--Pointy Boots Still On Hold

While I was at the school for a PTA fundraising thing yesterday, and as I was leaving, I ran into the guidance counsellor. I will remind you that I don't hold guidance counsellors in much higher esteem than I do bad teachers--my personal experience with most of them is that they became guidance counsellors because they are crappy people who need help themselves, so they thought they'd do best in helping to make more screwed up people like themselves, and actually being a counsellor of any kind would expose them to being sued when they screwed up adults.

But.. Anyway...

The one at the Howler's school seems genuinely concerned for the students. And I've talked with her about some of what happens in our neighborhood--the Urchins situation, and Damien's penchant for hacking up moles with plastic hoes.

I ran into her as I was leaving, and asked if she had a minute. She did, so I asked that we go to her office. (We were exactly outside the Howler's classroom, too) We talked about what's been happening in the Howler's room, and I told her what the Howler said, and without naming anyone, that another adult whom I trust had overheard another child from the Howler's room telling their parent the exact same thing the Howler said. I told her that it was my opinion that Miss Thang did too tell the children that they would be silent from their arrival at school to their dismissal from school until the end of the year.

My concerns are two-fold: First and foremost, if Miss Thang was that upset, stressed, or disturbed by what was going on with those children, she should NOT have been in that classroom. She did not have control of herself, or that classroom Wednesday afternoon. Whatever she and the principal had determined would be the course of action wasn't enough for her--and it should have been. She wasn't in control of herself then, and it can and probably will happen again.

Second, she's been back from maternity for one month. These children have 4 months of experience that she is not part of. They have a group dynamic that she has not been involved in. The 6 weeks from September & October, and the 4 weeks since the end of February is not enough time for her to have learned who they are as individuals and as a group. IF the inappropriate language, gestures, and hurtful actions/words have been on-going throughout the year, then OK, it's this particular group gone 3rd grade bad. BUT if it's just been seen, or escalating since her return, THEN it's time to take a look at how she is acting/reacting to the children, especially as a group, and evaluate if there's something she's doing or saying that is causing them to react this way. (Not that it makes the behaviors okay, but it would explain WHY it's became this ugly)

The Howler, for the most part, enjoys school, and isn't having any major problems academically, or socially. (Which brings me to a lesser question: we just had conferences, WHY wasn't this crap mentioned then...and if I didn't bring it up, WHY didn't she?) I don't want to see this year become a Hell Year, from which we will date all on-going problems with authority, learning, blah blah blah.

If Miss Thang doesn't realize that it's not realistic to come into a classroom after being not-there (no matter how valid the reason) for 4 months--fully 1/2 the year!!--and begin trying to force "her way" on the people there, then it's time for a Free Clue.

Seriously. I work retail, and with the store manager changes we've seen, the ones that get the best response from people in general, are the managers who take their time looking around, observing the group dynamic, determining where changes truly need to be made, then implementing those changes in a calm, reasonable, realistic manner. (The Weasel didn't do that, and it took him fully 2 years to gain any kind of respect from us--and we're adults! I can only imagine that these children, much like hyenas sensing weakness in their prey, are chewing this New Girl Teacher to shreds on a daily basis. They instinctively sense her weak spots and are hammering away on them.)

Mostly, I just want this year over. I want the Howler unscathed. As much as I enjoy a good Righteous Ass Kicking (not my ass, of course), I'd really rather not have to be bothered.

The Magic 8 Ball Is Never Wrong

Kinda. I started a post earlier today about how I respect teachers in general, and how I especially respect and stand in awe of excellent teachers...but how a few bad nutbar people ruin it for everyone.

I've decided to go through with the post. Mostly because the thing has my teeth on edge, and my back up. I'm looking for some college educated ass to kick. At the Howler's school.

This year has been a year of disappoint for us. She was supposed to have this awesomely fantastic teacher, who bailed out of our school for a district closer to where he lives. Which I can understand, but can I still just say, "You couldn't have waited ONE more freaking year? Seriously!" Instead she got this replacement. Adorable young thing, I assume she's just a year or so out of college. It's unclear whether or not this is her first year with her very own classroom.

I'm not impressed. First, she got the job while she was, I kid you not, 7 months pregnant. Knowing full well that she would miss fully half the year, she got the job. And the contingency plan was just flat out Slacker. I know me some slacker when I see it, and this chicklet was it. So, I'm totally 100% dead on with lack-of-impressiveness when it comes to teachers this year.

Anyway, the one who had a baby has been back a month. There were very few behavorial problems--and believe me, the Howler is more than willing to rat out every one of those nasty OPK in her class. She even managed to rat herself out more than once, but there were no major traumas going on with the Slacker.

But this woman? She's back just about 30 days now, and WOW! There's a nasty little incident with 2 boys smashing a playdoh person they made and named...and the principal arrived in the classroom to discuss how the children should handle a situation where they don't want to be friends with someone. AFTER the principal leaves, this woman tells the children that for the remainder of the year, there will be absolutely NO TALKING during the school day, unless you are specifically given permission by her. Not during lunch, not in the AM when you arrive at school, not while waiting for dismissal after school. No Talking. Period. Oh, and for good measure, IF you're given recess at all, it will be indoors--even on nice days--and you will be doing nothing but work work work without a break in the meantime.

At first, I thought the Howler MUST HAVE misunderstood. But during a PTA related conversation, I discover that this PTA person overheard conversation a child from the Howler's class was having with her mother. EXACT SAME WORDING. And this other little girl ain't no drama queen that I've seen or heard. She's fairly laid back, extremely non-overreacting.

I had already emailed the teacher, asking for clarification, while spelling out specifically what the Howler had said. The response was sent at 9:22am (plenty of time for her to have her attitude adjusted) today. While the words are right, I get the feeling that what I got told was the adjusted, suitable for parental consumption turn of events.

The Howler came home from school today, fairly happy, if tired after being out sick for 2 days, and having a busy Wednesday/early Thursday morning. So, the Miss Thang gets a "bye" for now...but I'll be in the school tomorrow for another purpose, and there better not be any surprises. I've already polished my ass kicking boots, and this little whackadoodle has definite target characteristics.

Oh, and before the Howler got home, I consulted the Magic 8 Ball. This thing has NEVER been wrong, and I do mean NEVER. Even the Toad has tried it, and it's NEVER wrong.

I asked, "Is Mrs. Thang lying?" and the Magic Answer was, "It is decidedly so."

11 Kinds of Sad; 7 Kinds of Happy

PSSA testing started yesterday. (That's the stardardized tests for proficiency in the PA schools.)

When the Toad went to school, even elementary, the dayumed teachers--the idiots--actually told the kids that if they didn't do well on the tests, teachers would lose their jobs. Then, they couldn't figure out why the kids were 40billion kinds of stressed-out sick in the weeks before test.

Nowadays, they tell the kids the tests are important, but they don't stress out the kids like that. They let the kids have breaks (real breaks, not a "why do you need to go to the bathroom again?" break) with bottles of water and snacks. Extra recess if possible, for those grades whose scores will determine budget $$ and staffing. The school also provides breakfast this week for every child in those determining grade levels.

On Monday, the Howler (and, yes, of course, every other child in her class) were told that they weren't to bring their usual water bottle and snack to school. And that they could eat breakfast at school.

The Howler went to 11 kinds of spazz, and had a meltdown fit. The Gator was worried enough about the spazz out to call her neighbor, who also happens to be a teacher at the Howler's school, to clarify what was happening.

The meltdown continued, in varying degrees the rest of the evening.

When I arrived home after work, at about 9:45pm, the phone rang within seconds of my walking in the door. It was the Gator.

"Did your Sweetie tell you about her water bottle?"

"I literally just walked in the door."

"Well, he'll tell you, but I checked it all out, and everything is fine."

"Okay. I literally just walked in the door."

"I checked it all out! It's all OK."

So, when I hung up the phone, I asked My Sweetie, "Was the Howler's water bottle turned into a bomb?"

"uh, no. I take it that was the Gator?"

"Yeah. And apparently, her water bottle was a bomb, and the Gator got it diffused in time."

Needless to say, her water bottle was NOT a bomb, and the Gator is just nuts. My Sweetie explained the entire meltdown for me.

In the morning, she wasn't in that much of a hurry to get ready for school. She did manage to get ready and out the door to meet the bus on time, though. She was still quite a few shades of apprehensive and unhappy.

When she barrelled in the door later that same day, though, she was 7 kinds of happiness, announcing that she would be eating breakfast at school every morning this week. And that she was not dehydrated, because she received a bottle of water and a tasty-good snack. And she was given a piece of peppermint gum to chew while taking the tests.

And, mostly, she LOOOOOOOOOOOVES taking these tests. It's the bestest EVER.

Sometimes, I think my darling Howler is a Drama Queen. And, that day, I knew for absolutely sure and certain, she IS a Drama Queen.

A New Song

for the Toad:

"The Toad got run over by a retard
Working full time and working hard
You can say that the Toad ain't never worked hard
But as for his grandma, she believes."

Yeah. And when he went to the ER to have the damage evaluated, he never told us. The Gator called him to invite him to eat dinner at her house, and he told her that he'd be there when he was released from the ER.

I'm trying not to laugh, even as I post this. I've had some really strange things happen to me, but even I have never been run over by a retard.

The Deets

Tonight, the Howler decided that since her DSi is supposedly internet capable, she would get herself on the internet. Needless to say, her parental units were not quite as happy about that idea as she was. (Turns out, the DSi may be internet capable, but we're not wired for that, baby.)

So, my Sweetie was fidgeting with the DSi, and whatever he did to it, it reset the camera feature.

The Howler begins telling me off because "Daddy did something to myyyyyy DSi. I had to watch all the deets to the camera."

I asked her to repeat herself. She wouldn't.

But, for the record, my baby knows the "deets."

Listen Up

Most of the time, the Howler is listening to A) the beat of her own drum; B) the sound of her own voice; C) her parents talking, which sounds very much like the adults' voices in Peanuts.

We recently discovered that she also listens in church. To the readings. And maybe the sermon. Okay, sometimes the sermon, especially if she can apply it to giving me hell.

Anyway, since she's in AWANA and has to do daily devotions, and I got elected to handle that particular Sunday evening's reading, I chose to repeat the lessons read that morning in church. She didn't comment on the book, chapter, or verse information.

Three words into the actually reading itself, she sez, "Hey! We already read this today in church!"

She's not listening to me, but she's listening to God. Save me.

Christmas Notes

I know I even missed orthodox Christmas, but you gotta know:

Christmas eve, for various reasons, I put on make up. Even tastefully, carefully, and conservatively done, everyone else thought I looked good.

The Howler, however, sez, "MOMMY! GO WASH YOUR FACE!"

I sez, "No, baby, I just put on make up."

The Howler replies, "I know and IT'S FREAKING ME OUT!"

Oh, how I love that girl!

Whatever!

So, Mr Mumple is still off, until Wednesday. He picked the Howler up after school today.

He sez, "We have about a cute little girl. She came running to the car, all smiling and happy."

I sez, "Well, she likes you more than she likes me."

He sez, "Yeah. And I can see why."