Disqualified Ballerina


Me: Here comes the baby ballerina!

Hank: I love these pajamas.

Molly (wearing footie pajamas complete with a pink tutu and ballet shoes)

Hank: Where is papa?

Me: He is out to dinner with friends tonight so it is just the three of us. What are you thinking for dinner? Something simple please. I am a little tired this evening.

Hank: Um… Scrambled eggs and popcorn.

Me: Done and done. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you should be a chef, buddy.

Hank: Can I have Molly? I will watch her while you make dinner.

Me: Thank you, honey.

Hank: (taking the baby) Molly MaGoo? Do you have poops? Do you need foods? Do you have pees? No? Good. You just stay here with your best brother and don’t start fussing.


(cooking pause: scrambled eggs, stove top popcorn, sliced red peppers and cucumbers and cheese)


Me: Right, kids. Dinner. Hank, bring me your sister so you can come to the table and eat.

Hank: Molly was so good.

Me: Wonderful.

Hank: She was good because I told her if she fussed she would be a disqualified ballerina. Ballerinas do not fuss.

Me: Bwahhahahahhahah!

Hank: She listened and had very good behavior!

Me: (still laughing, taking the baby) I bet. Our little, Molly MaGoo, a disqualified ballerina?

Hank: (whispers) I wouldn’t disqualify her for real.

Me: (cooing at the baby, winking at Hank)

Molly: (smiling and kicking)


A Better Choice



Hank: Are you ready, Braulio?

Braulio: Ready.

(racing cars through Prague on the Xbox)

Hank: (frantically pushing buttons)

Braulio: (frantically pushing buttons) Shit.

Me: Braulio, do you need to use that language? Lest you forget you are playing with a seven year old.

Braulio: (frantically pushing buttons) Shit. (pause) Sorry. I can’t help it.

Hank: (frantically pushing buttons) Yes, you can Braulio. I help it all the time.

Braulio: (frantically pushing buttons)

Hank: (frantically pushing buttons) You can say: sugar, polvo (octopus), shut the front door, turn off the faucet, applesauce and sometimes I just say, “no no no no no no no no no no no.”

Braulio: (frantically pushing buttons) Sugar!

Hank: (frantically pushing buttons) There you go, Braulio! Watch out for this curve. Mommy, I am driving a Citroen and Braulio a Mustang.

Me: (calmly turning the page of my book) Shut the front door.



SkyMall Cover



Pai: What?! What?! Is everything okay?


Hank: Mommy?

Pai: Oh, that. Yes. I read that in the New York Times.


Hank: Mommy, what is it?

Pai: Do you remember the magazine on airplanes that sell all the junk?

Hank: Yes?

Me: Junk! How DARE YOU! Skymall is the first market some inventers get to launch their epic ideas!

Hank: Yes.

Pai: They are out of money.

Me: NOW WHAT WILL I DO FOR THE FIRST FOURTY MINUTES OF EVERY FLIGHT? (fake crying, kinda) I never even got the chance to buy my sumo table. (fake weeping, kinda)

Hank: Oh no!

Me: Duty Free isn’t the same! (facedesk)


Pai: (rolling his eyes)