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Morning Routines

So, every morning I come in to wake up the girls with a little ritual. First, Basya. I climb into her bed and cuddle for a minute, then gently inform her that the shower is running for her and that if she doesn’t go now she’ll kill all of the polar bears by wasting water. She asks me to “escort” her (her word, not mine) to the bathroom; I do.

Next comes Dina. She’s a tougher nut to crack, so to get her out of bed, I have to start talking to her in ways that are so bizarre that she feels compelled to respond. I often call her weird things. So, this morning:

Me: Hey, twiddle sticks.


Me: Hey, tumble tot.


Me: Hey, fig popper.

Dina: Fig popper?

Me: Yeah. It’s a fig, stuffed with cheese, and then deep fried. Have you ever had one?

Dina: No.

Me: Why not?

Dina: I’ve never had the time.

Me: What do you mean? They don’t seem like they’d take a long time to eat.

Dina: They take 20 minutes to eat.

Me: Why?

Dina: Because, you’re only supposed to eat the fig. So you have to take off all the breading…

Me: Wait, then why do they put the breading on in the first place?

Dina: For texture.

Me: Ohhh…Okay, well, it’s 7:20, so you better get up and get dressed.

Dina: Wait…I’m practicing this Shakira move from the “She Wolf” video.

Whole other story…

Speaking of Vampires

Dina’s been really into vampires lately (although I’ve successfully kept her away from the Twilight franchise). Of course, she thinks boy vampires are dreamy. Today at brunch we talked about why that might be…

Me: So, Dina, why do you think vampires are, like, sexy?

Dina: Because they’re cute.

Me: But, like, why do we imagine them to be cute?

Dina: Because they have pretty eyes and stuff.

Me: No, but, I mean…okay…like, they’re not real. We invented them in our minds. So, like, for example, what about the way they eat? What’s sort of romantic about it?

Dina: Ohhhh…It’s like a hickey!

Pause. Dina’s face lights up.

Me: That’s pretty interesting, huh?

Dina: Yeah…wow.

Me: What do you think of that?

Dina: It just makes so much sense now. Like, they’re exchanging emotions but they’re exchanging blood!

Never too young for Jung, is what I always say.

Captive Audience

The elevator in our building is sort of like my daughters’ private little comedy training ground. If we’re alone in it they usually fight or keep silent, but if anyone else happens to find themselves in there with us, they’re going to get a show. Of course, as an improv comedian, I sort of can’t help fanning the comedy flames, which is how we end up being in situations like this pretty frequently:

Dina: Some guy was talking about my shoes at the store.

Me: Like, an adult or a kid?

Dina: Like, a grown man. More than a grown man. Like, a 40 year old.

Middle age man and woman in elevator laugh.

Dina: I don’t know. I’m not so good at telling ages. Like, how old do I look?

Me: Like…72?

More laughter as the middle aged couple realize they are our audience.

Dina: Mom!

Me: I’m not good at telling ages.

Dina scowls.

Me: Okay. Between 6 and 42, definitely.

More scowling (she’s playing the straight man).

The elevator reaches our floor. The audience is in hysterics. As we get off the elevator…

Dina: (sighing) Man, we are a funny family.

From the mouths of babes

“Why is there so much clothing on me?!” cries Dina as she scurries to the bathroom.

I mean…right?

Are You Ready for Some Football?

So, guys, here’s the thing. Basya’s almost ten; Dina’s in third grade. I feel like we’ve turned a corner where the things they say are just, you know, awesome and hilarious things people say, and not necessarily awesome and hilarious because they’re kids. And I think maybe that’s why I haven’t been posting lately. But maybe I’ll just try to make sure to check in every so often so you can judge their awesomeness and hilariousness for yourself. Case in point:

Basya: So that guy Ochocinco…he’s the one who changed his name so he could put that on the back of his jersey?

Me: Yup.

Basya: I’m glad a guy like that is on our team.

so true. so, so true.

Hey, is anyone reading this still? Should I still be posting here? Just wondering.

Here’s something that happened today:

Me: Dina, your allowance from Sunday is just sitting on the table.

Dina: Oh, yeah…I’ll put that away.

Me: Where’s your birthday money?

Dina: I think I put it on my dresser.

Me: You don’t really care so much about money, do you?

Dina: Nope. Money doesn’t make happiness.

Me: What makes happiness?

Dina: Love.

Good question.

Dina: What if a three year old walked into their parents’ room and saw them making out?

Me: Oh, that happens sometimes.

Dina: What would they say? “Why are you fighting?” “Uh, because it’s fun. But, uh, you shouldn’t do it to your friends.”

Me: laughing hysterically, unable to talk

Dina: (continuing) “Uh, it’s dinner time. Wash up.” “But it’s 1 AM.” “Uh…well, just…get out of here.” “Why are you naked?” “Um…uh…eee…GO EAT A SNACK!”

And so was born another sitcom writer…

The LOLsiepops Strike Again.

This time Basya’s going solo in a sketch inspired by Food Network hosts who get a little over-excited about their dishes. Written and performed by Basya (with editorial assistance and camera work by her mom). Enjoy!

My Mom, the Comedian

Here’s a little piece I just wrote. I liked writing it; now you like reading it.

come again?

What Basya said: “What am I going to do when I’m done with my laundry and Dina isn’t?”

What I heard: “What am I going to do when I turn into a zombie and Dina isn’t?”

Either is a valid concern, although the second has more far reaching implications.