It’s Your Grave, Mommy

Kids can be creepy sometimes. I remember when Little Man once told me that he wanted to hold a beating heart one day. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up in the middle of the night to find one of them staring at me. When I woke up to find Little Man sitting beside my pillow staring at me when he was about four, he told me that he liked watching me sleep. Did I say “creepy” already?

Baby Girl took the creepy stuff up a notch this weekend. I had my headphones on playing a video game with Little Man when my husband tapped me on the shoulder. I slid one of the speakers to the side to see what he wanted.

“Can you pause the game?” he asked.

“No. You can’t pause Fortnite. The storm is closing!” I slid the headphones back in place, and he tapped me on the shoulder again.

I slid the speaker to the side again. “What?”

“You’ll want to see this. Baby Girl drew a picture.”

I won’t lie–I was slightly annoyed. I hadn’t played the video game in a week, had a great weapon, and was ready to take out the other tweens and teens I was up against and get a kill count higher than Little Man’s. (I did, by the way, and he claimed it was because other people were cheating.) But whatever.

“Let me see the picture.”

My husband gave me this:

(I lost 10 Mom points there for not saying, “Tell me about your art.”)

What?!

Surely I had misheard her. My kids have done and said a lot of creepy stuff, but neither of them have ever killed me off.

I looked at my husband for verification.

What?! Was that my punishment for playing a video game–death?

I asked Baby Girl why she killed me, but she said she didn’t know. I was just dead and in my grave, and that was that. (I didn’t know she even knew what a grave was.) She didn’t appear to be angry with me, and she also didn’t seem very shook up about my death. She went back to drawing more pictures, and I went back to playing Fortnite. I made sure not to turn my back to her.

When I pressed her for more information while I was working on this post, she told me that she made me dead because she didn’t want to draw my face. I’m not sure why I had to be dead when she didn’t draw out two other faces and made them alive, though. I guess it’s somewhat comforting to know that my daughter killed me out of laziness. If I believe her.

What’s the creepiest thing your kid has ever said or done? 

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Calling All Dorks: Baby Howie

The first guest post for my Calling All Dorks series comes from Becca, who blogs at the hilarious With Love and a Little Self-Deprecation. If you aren’t following her blog, then do so — she possesses a fantastic wit!

If you’ve ever purchased a house, you probably know that sometimes the previous owners leave things behind. A lot of times these left behind items tend to be mostly crap, but Becca’s “gift” was a little…different.

Her story:

We moved into our house in 2011. It has its issues, but there is a perfect spot for an extra tall Christmas tree, which is really all you can ask for in a home. (That 75% of the reason we bought this house. I actually did the math.)

I really can’t think of a better reason to make the biggest investment of your life.

But we have found that the real gift of this house hasn’t come in the form of ample space for Christmas decor, it’s Baby Howie.

When you move into someone else’s old house you assume that they will take all of their stuff with them. The family who lived in our house before us missed that memo and for some reason we skipped a walk through before closing. Probably because we were 26 years old and were simply too proud of ourselves for figuring out how to apply for a mortgage as fetuses to worry much about other details. And they had offered to leave their snow blower and ride-on lawn mower so we were literally distracted by something(s) shiny.

While there are at least 15 reasons I wish we did a walk through (including but not limited to the striped circus curtains left in the living room), Baby Howie is the one reason I’m glad we didn’t. You see, sitting in the rafters of our garage is a baby doll. Drawn underneath the doll on the rafters are a set of eyes looking up. And written under the eyes, “Baby Howie.” Most people think that’s creepy for some reason. Glen and I don’t. (Marry someone who gets you.)

Aww, you thought I was making a weird joke didn’t you?    That’s cute. But no. He’s totally real.

[Let’s get a close up on that — cue the slasher music.]

We readily accepted Baby Howie as part of the family. The small upstairs bedroom became “Baby Howie’s room” from the moment we moved in. We didn’t bring Baby Howie into the room, prevailing theory is that he is structurally important to our home so we can’t move him from the rafters, but it was his just the same. When guests came over for the first time we proudly brought them into the garage to introduce Baby Howie, because that’s how we treat guests at our home – give them cookies and nightmares.

Jack recently saw Baby Howie and asked about him so we explained that the doll was Baby Howie and that he lives in our garage. No, we can’t touch him, he has to stay there forever undisturbed. Being our son, Jack has accepted all of that as truth and checks in on Baby Howie’s well being on a regular basis. Every day that our daycare provider doesn’t call me asking about the baby living in our garage is a good day.

I don’t expect you to understand Baby Howie. He’s not for everyone. Just respect the fact that he isn’t going anywhere and now he’s officially part of your life too.

Let’s hope that Becca doesn’t hear a scurrying in the night and get up to check things out only to find this in her rafters. Dun-dun-duuuunnnn!

Would you keep Baby Howie or trash him? I say “Keep” because that’d be a hell of a thing to show guests. (And it might be enough to keep certain guests away.)


That wraps up the first post in the Calling All Dorks series. If you have a funny/dorky story that you’d like to see poorly illustrated, then send me an email at dorkymomdoodles@gmail.com. (Old posts are fair game.)

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