Yesterday was my husband’s birthday. {Happy birthday, schnuffie.}
{I don’t really call him that.}
{But you *totally* should the next time you see him. He’ll LOVE it, I promise.}
Anyway, my husband…he likes banana Laffy Taffy.
{Pause for gag reflex.}
Every year on his birthday our friend, let’s call her Aunt Diana {why? Because that’s her name}, buys him some of the super long ropey kind.
And every year I tell Aunt Diana we are no longer friends. You see, I detest the smell of artificial banana, and I’m sure you’ll have a hard time imagining this, but it would appear that Laffy Taffy is not made of the actual fruit it impersonates. So my husband consumes this bottom-of-the-convenience-store-barrel-desperation-candy and proceeds to smell like it and demonstrate that, apparently, he does not wish to be smooched on the mouth. This greatly pleases our daughters, who find mouth kissing repulsive, and who have to be reminded that {as babies} they used to allow our dog to kiss them on their very open-mouthed little baby faces.
{Ew, I have achieved a new level of gross out with that paragraph.}
So every year, on David’s birthday, I try to distract him from his newly acquired banana barf rope with his favorite meal! And some yummy dessert! And all our new gorgeous patio plants!
Weeeeeeeeeell, maybe that was more of a distraction for me…but yes, to celebrate David’s birthday, bitty G and I went to the nursery to pick us out some new babies.
{Tactless joke, right? Yeah, I thought so too.}
Hello my pretties.
Some kids grow up loitering, lollygagging, and idling the aisles of every Hancock fabric store within 50 miles, but not my kids…
Mine will grow up in the wild, untamed outdoors of the local nursery.
Oh, how quaint. I bet it’s infinitely less poisonous than banana Laffy Taffy.
Putting on her “glubs.” NOBODY CORRECT THIS.
I didn’t mean to plant almost everything after we got home yesterday…it just sort of happened.
Side note…last night I thought my purse felt a little heavy. Well, it was. Because bitty G had been sneaking rocks into it the whole time we were in the nursery. Those kind employees probably think I’m some sort of ground cover klepto. I so wish I had a picture of this, but I did not have the wherewithal to procure one once I figured out why my purse felt like a BAG OF ROCKS.
Last pic, my new favorite view {well, that’s not schnuffie or the bitties…}:
It’s pretty and all, but it’s no ground cover.
Hide yo wife, hide yo kids, hide yo ground cover…
I rarely laugh out loud when reading silently, but you made me do that more than once! You are a riot! Plus that last line is so timely. We just shared that video with some friends who had never seen it.