I create my own problems

Mornings are so hard.

Mornings are literally the worst except for the evenings.

We've been struggling with our keys recently, so when I couldn't find them as we were walking out the door the the other morning, it was like, "of course I can't find my keys. Why would I have learned to keep track of something silly like my keys?"

Where are my keys?

In my purse!

Now all I have to do is find my purse.  I'm zipping frantically around the house, clutching Lilly's lunch and jacket and breakfast and an umbrella and we HAVE TO LEAVE we are VERY LATE and my fingers are tired but if I put anything down I will lose that, too.

"Ok, Lilly, I have to find my purse, so try not to be annoying for a second." (I didn't really say that part, because I love her, but I thought it)

"You need to find your purse with the tree on it?"

She's referring to the purse I was using until a few days ago when the strap broke and I went back to using my trusty old brown purse.

"No, not the tree purse, I don't use that one any more."  Also, I'm finding it super annoying that she's being all specific about this.  The hell does she care what my purse looks like?

"You need to find your other purse because it has your keys in it?"

"Yes, exactly.  Gotta find my purse, because I gotta have my keys to go anywhere."

"So we're looking for your other purse?"

I swear to god if that girl can't stop talking about my goddamn other purse and let me find my goddamn keys in peace . . .

Wait. Why *is* she talking about my "other" purse?

So I stop for a second, and look down and . . .

Yup.  There's my purse, hanging from my arm.

Lilly has been justifiably confused about what, exactly, it is that I'm running around looking for, because surely there is some other purse at play if this one is just swinging in the air.

Nobody wants to be an apple

We were sitting by a pond, Lilly and I, and she says to me, "Mom?  Isn't this so peaceful? Don't you want to stay here for hours?"

And I absolutely did.  Except my hips are too old to be sitting around on the ground like that.

"Mom?  What would you want to be: a hippo, a duck, or an apple?"

Do you know how many years of my life I have spent answering questions like these at this point?  Sooooo many.

"I would say definitely a duck."

"DAD.  DAD! WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE A HIPPO A DUCK OR AN APPLE?"

Lilly.  Remember the peaceful?

"Oh, a hippo. That's a no-brainer."

"Chris, that's absurd.  Who wants to be a hippo?  What is even remotely appealing about being a hippo?"

"Dude, if I was a hippo I would crush you like a bug!"

"Hippos just look like giant stomachs or some other internal organs lying around in mud.  A duck can fly, swim and walk.  Again, the duck is obviously the better choice."

"Hey, if you had to be a girl duck, you would have LAY EGGS."

"Um, yeah, but if I had to be girl hippo, I'd have to give birth to a HIPPO."

"Fair enough.  I still think ducks get shot at a lot, and nobody wants to mess with a hippo."


And that's how we spent a beautiful Sunday by the pond.