Please, I’m begging for your help.  In the comments please list off as many reasons you can think of that my 7 year old does not want to do ballet.  The person who gets closest to the real reason she gave us will get a gift card for $5.00 for Starbucks or Target or Walmart or some store you will use it at.  The only stipulation is that you must live in the US so I can send it to you.  Oh, and all answers have to be G-Rated.

Just to add to the ‘way too much’ nature of this blog: I learned to play the drumset in Jr. High on the school’s acrylic drums.  They were clear, tuned poorly, and older than the entire drum section’s ages combined.  We loved them.  We played and played on them.  No animals or trees were harmed in their manufacturing, unless of course you consider that plastic is a petroleum biproduct, in which case animals and plants may have been harmed quite some time ago for their manufacturing.  I’m pretty sure PETA would protest those drums and put paint on them.  We’d probably have hit the PETA members back with the wooden drum sticks we all carried around with us EVERYWHERE.

I’ve recently realized that when people ask me one particular question (and many other non-particular questions) I get rather animated and excited and run my mouth.  The question: Do you like coffee?  I do.  I like it a lot and apparently I’m often compelled to answer that I like it so much that I sometimes roast my own.  They asked a yes or no question, I ran my mouth with a longer answer that might come across as, “more than you!”  I don’t mean it that way, I just like the brown, roasted beans a bunch.  Apologies if you’ve run into this with me.  Feel free to suggest to me, “That was a question requiring only a boolean response.”  I’ll take the hint :)

I have been having weird dreams lately.  One included my friends’ in the closet of my youth on wifi enabled laptops.  I’d go into more details, but you’d either want to shoot me, or I’d have to shoot you.  Either way, awake feels safer than asleep lest I have more weird dreams.

The four year old just shared this bit of logical gymnastics:

Sharks are fish.  So you could call all fish sharks.

I’m going to pass on doing that.  I’m also not going to bother her with the explanation of why that is not logically consistent.