The best Claireyism yet...

It's 3:47 pm on Monday. I just got a call from Clairey's first-grade teacher:

Teacher: Hi, Mrs. Wisdom? This is teacher's name here, um...i need you to educate Clairey about something.
Me: Sure...what about.
Teacher: Well, she was acting all 'loosey-goosey' today, and I told her to 'please settle down, or i'll have to call your mommy'. She looked at me and said, "Oh no! Please don't call the whore!"
Me: WHAT? She called me a 'whore'???
Teacher: Yes. I'm pretty sure she didn't know what it meant, so i quickly told her that that's a naughty word, and we don't say that. Then i had to deal with the group of little girls that were standing around, asking, 'What's a 'whore'?'
Me: I have no idea where she heard that. [Honestly, i really don't. I would say 'hooker', or 'dirty leg', but never 'whore'.] I'll talk to her!

And we signed off.

I looked at Clairey. "Did you call me something bad at school today?"
"No."
"Are you sure? Did you call me a 'whore'?"
"OH...yeah."
"You did. You called me a whore?! That's a bad word."
"I didn't know!"
"But why would you say that? What do you think it means??"
"I didn't want her to call you because that would be bad and i'd get in trouble!"
"So, you called me a whore."
"Yes! I said, 'No, don't call! The whore!!"
[and here, i figure it out.]
"You mean, 'the horror'?"
"YES! Don't call--THE WHORE!"

Fred

Last night, Clairey and I were in the shower and i was removing my eyelashes--I wear beauty-tube mascara--the kind that, once you get it wet, the lashes just 'slide' off. So, I was pulling off my eyelashes, and rinsing them off my fingers...

Clairey: Those look like Fred.
Me: Fred? Hmmm...is Fred a spider? [the lashes looked like spider legs]

She looked at me like I was an idiot.

Clairey: No, FRED.
Me: Who's Fred?!
Clairey: FRED, mom, FRED. You know, the stuff you sew with.

Ahh...THREAD.

Alas, poor Ken...

...I knew him well.

I found Ken on the floor--his dead, plastic body face-up. I think it's easy to conclude that Edward (yes, this is he of 'Twilight' fame) veered from his "deer" diet, attacked Ken, left him for dead, then decided to take a relaxing bath with his favorite rubber ducky.

I believe the Barbie girls are off shopping. Jeesh, what a mess THEY have to come home to.

And more...

Claireyisms, that is...

On the way home from visiting family in Kilgore--out of the blue, she asks:

"Do we go to a 'Bapatize' church?"


Me: "What? A Baptist church? No, we go to a Lutheran church."

Clairey: "A Lutherick church? Gamma goes to a 'Katherine' church."

Me: "Yep, Gamma goes to a Catholic church."

Clairey: "I have a friend at school named Katherine. Hmmmm....I wonder if she owns the place."

Claireyisms

There's this white chihuahua in our neighborhood that is constantly roaming the streets. I don't know how many times i've nearly run over that little shit, but it's been a lot. I actually had to get out of my car, and physically remove his lazy butt from the middle of the road before. He was annoying, but tolerable, until i found him pooping in my backyard. Then it was on. If he should accidentally meet the front end of my car, there will be no tears shed. The girls cheer me on.

This morning, as we were waiting for the bus, here comes Mr. Chihuahua, pitter-pattering down the street, looking for someones garbage to sample, i'm sure. I looked out the window, holding my cup of coffee, and grumbled, "Ugh...there's that chihuahua..." Clairey immediately sighed, and said, shaking her head in disgust, "...that little bastard."

Can't. Stop. Laughing.