Well when you put it that way, it does sound ridiculous…

That whole meat-free thing? Still going strong. Well, correction, not strong, because Friday night I got a whiff of a McDonald’s hamburger and I know they’re horrible but for about 40 minutes I really missed them.

I only was near McDonald’s because that’s where I took my favorite six-year-old, Will, to dinner while babysitting him. Usually I’ve got him and his sister, Claire, who is seven, but she had plans tonight so it was just me and the little dude.

You guys, he’s one of the funniest people I know. And it’s 98-percent unintentional. I love talking to kids and asking them serious questions to see what their answers will be because they’re always funny. And usually when I’m with Will, I post them on Twitter at some point (follow me, if you like, my Tweets are near the top righthand corner of this page).

Well, Friday night was no exception and he had a lot of good ones – from wondering why I was a grown-up woman and not married (he had suggestions for who) – to telling me “I don’t care for them” (them being onions, but he talks like a 40-year-old sometimes).

One of my favorite conversations of the evening, however, happened when we were talking about getting his dinner at McDonald’s. I told him I wasn’t eating a burger like he was because I’m a vegetarian, kind of, but I just eat fish, no meats or chicken or anything like that.

His response? “I’m that, too, a vegetarian, except I only eat steaks, but no chicken or fish.”

I feel that I am not being taken seriously in my endeavors..by a six-year-old anyway… #pescetarianproblems

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Chaperoning at The Happiest Place on Earth

I may have mentioned it a few ten times, but I spent MLK weekend in Orlando, chaperoning 11 kids – middle-schoolers and high-schoolers through a youth faith conference/time at the Disney parks.

Lots of fun, lots of rides, lots of standing, dancing, singing, running to get ahead of teenagers who had no idea where they were going and had to be told 30 times to “Stay behind an adult!” Needless to say, I’m still recovering.

That said, I love those kids like they were my own flesh and blood and I loved spending time with them. They’re a great group and I can’t wait to watch them grow and do great things.

I could give you a play-by-play of the whole weekend, but that would be less fun than what I have in mind. So. For your viewing pleasure, I’ll give you a little idea of what that three-day weekend — that felt like 10 days but went by as fast as one day — was like through pictures from the new ballin’ camera and several tweets from the weekend.

Yeah, that’s right, I live-tweeted as often as I could and for those of you who don’t/can’t follow me on Twitter, these tweets pretty much sum it all up.

Without further ado, my MLK weekend in photos and tweets.

Enjoy.

Crazy, busy, fun, a little bit stressful for a few minutes, awesome, unpredictable weekend. That about sums it up.

Well, I was six. Once.

This week in Sunday school it was kind of a mad house. Six kids. Five of them were boys. Two of them were age 3. All of them had their levels cranked to 11.

When I finally got them to sit down and listen to the story, it calmed down a bit. There was question asking and hand-raising and Jackson, age 6, asked his fellow miscreants to raise their hands if they were 6 years old as well.

Naturally, I raised my hand.

Jackson: Miss Laura, you’re not six!
Me: Yeah huh! I am.
Jackson: You’re not!
Me: Then how old am I?
Jackson: Sixteen!
Me: Oh, yeah. I forgot.
Will, also age 6, whom I babysat for last week and I’ve already played this game with: No you’re not, you’re 27!

Dammit. Cover’s been blown.

You better get used to this stuff

Other gems from four- and five-year-old Sunday School:

Dottie (teacher): God told Abraham and Sarah they would have as many children as there were stars in the sky. How many do you think that is?
Johnny, 4: Eight!

Dottie: Miss Laura told us what her name means, what about you, Johnny? What does your name mean?
Johnny: BATMAN!

Pretty sure that name didn’t appear in the Bible but bonus points for creativity

I’ve signed up to help teach four- and five-year-old Sunday School because I’m a glutton for punishment I enjoyed helping Rachel out when she was teaching last year and the one week I’ve attended so far did not disappoint.

The lady that’s doing most of the teaching (I’m there for cat-herding and craft assistance) is the sweetest woman you’ll ever meet and she has a grandson in the class. Her other grandson, Wyatt, apparently came to the class last week, even though he’s 3.

That age is big on repetition so for Sunday School the past two weeks they’ve learned the story about Abraham and Sarah.

Or they’re supposed to.

Because apparently, last week, after the lesson when the teacher asked the class what Abraham’s wife’s name was (after it had been repeated multiple times) Wyatt called out confidently: “LADY GAGA.”

It’s gonna be a fun year…

The creepiness of the music of the night

More often than not, friends and family members will pass along things that they’ve seen/heard at their jobs they know I will enjoy.

This is the reason I have a ceramic bear holding a heart that says “Your sweet.” (Your sweet what?)

It’s also the reason you’ve gotten to read the chronicles of cubicle neighbor-dom.

For me, it reinforces the fact that I want them all to have blogs of their own, because these aren’t the first funny or crazy things that have happened to them and I’m sure they won’t be the last.

But since they don’t have blogs of their own, they pass them on to me, meaning I get to share them with you.

And this one’s a doozy.

My sister works for company that puts on concerts, plays and other events throughout the year. And a lot of people ask her place of business if they can get tickets donated.

She does the same thing for every one of them – sends them a form letter that tells them they won’t be donating the tickets. All well and good, until the crazies reply again.

So she forwarded me an e-mail reply she got this week – keep in mind this was really sent for no reason at all though, conversation was done – where, according to Rach, she basically says “Oh it’s OK you can’t give us the tickets. By the way, look at this freaky picture of my grandkids.”

Yeah. She thanks Rach for her response but also decides to share a story about how her kids and grandkids loved “Phantom of the Opera.”

“They loved it so much and learned some of the songs,” she wrote.

Don’t believe it? Well that’s OK, ’cause she sent a picture for proof.

There are no words. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to dry my eyes from crying from laughing so hard.

This kid is awesome

In addition to several adults we spent time with during our trip to England, we also got in some QT with my cousin’s 6-year-old son, Alistair.

One of the funniest kids I know, seriously.

The one-liners kept coming all week and there’s so much that made us laugh..I don’t know where to start.

You’ve already heard his feelings about nudity.

He doesn’t always say “brilliant,” but there are loads of other (see what I did there?) British phrases he throws into conversation.

Some examples?

“Can I have a go on your iPod when we get home?”

“Mummy, can we go straightaway?”

“Shall I go get the game?”

He loved Ashley from the second we got there, so much so that I asked if she was his girlfriend. Allyson said “Isn’t Sloane your girlfriend?” Sloane, of course, being a girl at his school.

Alistair: “She was.”
Allyson: “Is she not still your girlfriend?”
Alistair: “No.”
Allyson: “Why not?”
Alistair: “She smacked me in the face and I broke up.”

The child is also a fantastic photographer, he really can capture the moment, like he did when he caught this beautiful moment:

And other gems like these:


I haven’t even mentioned the faces he does. This is a picture of my personal favorite, the Port Authority Face – meaning the face you get when you ask a question at the Port Authority.

And then there was Abbey Road. This kid can take direction very well. We made him do a number of different poses, from a gargoyle to a frog. The best one, I think, is the one down below. The sphinx. Couldn’t have done it better myself. Actually, I probably couldn’t have even done it at all.

We hung out with some other kids while we were there, too, including two middle-school-aged Brits that we taught how to say “hamburger” and “water” like we do here in the U.S.ofA. But Alistair takes the cake.

Too old for me to boss around

Today my first roommate, my former car-twin, the girl who once upon a time idolized me to the point where she’d say in her cute little voice, “I wiss my name was Lawa,” turns 24.

Happy birthday, little sister. I love you. And if you’re lucky, I may let you come over and watch me make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Where everyone should get their advice

I’ve told you before about my occasional fill-ins as a Sunday School teacher for four- to six-year-olds, when my sister or the other teacher can’t be there.

It’s a fun little class and I usually leave with several hilarious words of advice or ridiculously cute and outrageous overheard conversations.

And today was no exception.

After talking about Lady Gaga and favorite singers:
Darrah, age 5: I love Justin Bieber. I want to kiss him.
Me: Don’t you have a boyfriend?
Darrah: I have a boyfriend but I don’t love him as much as I love Justin Bieber.
Me: How old do you think you have to be to be somebody’s girlfriend?
Darrah: You have to be at least three years old to have a boyfriend.
Me: So how do you know if someone wants to be your boyfriend? How can you tell?
Darrah: As long as he thinks you’re cute he’ll be your boyfriend.
Me: What if he thinks I’m cute but doesn’t want to be my boyfriend?
Will, age 6: That’s IMPOSSIBLE!