National Pig Day

Happy Pig Day!  Our school makes a big deal about National Pig Day.  There are piggy snacks, hotdogs for lunch, a "Cutest Pig Tail" contest, and mechanical toy pig races.  (Btw, Spencer's pig, Pickles, won his heat.  Seems there's a future for us in Pig Racing.  We're going to start on the circuit soon - just as soon as someone creates that circuit.)  The kids are also allowed to submit a pig picture.  Here are the Johnson submissions:

Spencer

Nice.  Nice.  A traditional approach, with a baseball cap for some whimsy.  And "he's in a box because we're going to eat him."  Ummm.  Okay.  Some realism, too - because life ain't always cute, I guess.

Elizabeth

More of an existential approach.  I cut out the pieces for her.  She glued and decorated.  I'm not quite sure why the pig has seven legs or an unattached tail; I'm sure there is some deep, genius-like meaning behind it.  And, the stars...  well, I'm sure it's something far more artistic than the fact that she liked to peel the paper off the stickers.  And, the bow.  That's because "she's a girl."  Duh.

Pictures From Around the House

I'm torn in my feelings over this.  There's admiration for this gravity defying little Cheerio and disgust over the barnyard-like manners that allowed one of my children to get a Cheerio stuck under the counter upon which they were eating.

Slumber party in my room!
Kinda feel like I should have been invited, though.

Elizabeth wanted to wear her watch on her ankle.  I must believe she just thought it was clever, not that she in any way wanted to emulate Paris or Lindsay's house arrest ankle bracelets.  :-/

When Good Maturity Goes Bad

Shawn's been out of town.  When this happens I try really hard to be mature.  I try to keep the children safe, clean, clothed and fed.  Most of the time I succeed.  Most of the times I'm pretty good at being the grown-up.  But, sometimes... not-so-much.  Like last night.

I was shutting the house down for the night, making sure the doors were locked, turning off the lights, and the cordless phone in my hand (I was taking it back to the charger) rings.  Well, it was late for the home phone to be ringing, so I instinctively looked at the caller id.  It said "10".  Nothing else. 

There were three levels of thought here.  My first mature thought was, "Weird.  I'll see if they leave a message."  My next semi-mature thought was, "This makes me think of the movie where the guy calls the babysitter and says, 'Have you checked the children?'"  And, finally, my completely twelve-year-old girl thought was, "OMG!  In that movie the call was coming from inside the house!"

And, thus, I scared the ever-living crap out of myself with a 1980s B-movie.

P.S.  They did leave a message.  It was a butt-dial.  I don't know who.  But, if I ever figure it out, I'm gonna smack 'em for having a caller id of "10".