Monday, July 23, 2012

Tramp Champs?

Kimball is a glutton for the "tramp-o-leeeeeeeeeen!"  He loves it.  Absolutely loves it.  His blackened feet speak volumes about how much he loves it.  He especially likes to have Papa play a little private game with him which the two of them concocted--something to do with a magic rock.  The rock puts Papa to sleep, Kimball then wakes him up, and Papa proceeds to scare the living daylights out of Kimball.  Or something like that.

Kimball and I have no such magic rock between the two of us.  We just have "magic rock."  As in, rockin' and rollin' on that tramp-o-leeeen until my calves scream bloody murder and Kimball comes to the realization that Deedee ain't no Christian and Ashley.  (Good golly miss molly.  Here we go . . . just the mere mention of . . . waaaaaaahhhh!  I miss that kid like nobody's business!  {Bet you never heard that from me before.})  

Anywho, it is so nice to have a three-year-old around to give Papa and Deedee a good excuse for behaving like, well, like three-year-olds.  That insessant whining has just GOT to stop, however, and I'm sure the whole family agrees that I'm beyond old enough to know better and that I should just knock off my whining right now before I teach Kimball any bad habits.  I suppose they've got me on that one.  

1 comment:

Lisa said...

We must find a Youngest and Sassiest Looking Grandma Competition. You would win hands down!