Greetings from Babyland. Life’s a beach. If that beach was your house that you puttered around all afternoon until arriving at the point at which you could get ready to leave said house. Ninety minutes of getting ready ensue, culminating in the baby barfing on himself.
Hurry, grab the car seat and strap him in there before he eliminates something out of some other orifice.
Drag selves, baby to the grandparents house, where fusses, eats, barfs, poops again, and has approximately nineteen and a half minutes of radiating, addicting, pleasantness where everyone will fall completely in love with him.
If I was really filling out a postcard, I would have ran out of room a long time ago. On postcards you’re only supposed to write that the weather is great. The weather is great, somewhere.
As you can tell, there just hasn’t been much mental capacity left for me to do any writing. Not even to tell you that I’ve purchased some Lunchables Uploaded, which is apparently a superior version of Lunchables. How it is superior I do not know yet, but I will report soon.
Still, I care about this blog, you the reader, and the fate of humanity in general. So I wanted to post something.
I recently found this gem at the thrift store:
Oh yes. The Chuck-E-Cheese Pizza Factory. Everything sealed and minty on the inside. Part of me wants to keep it, but I’ll probably sell it. (Contact me if you desperately need this is your life.)
It comes with pizza dough, cheese, and pizza sauce to make little pizzas. This toy is 20+ years old. Have you ever wondered what 20-year old pizza sauce looks like?
It looks like that.
There must be a ton of these sitting in a warehouse somewhere, because someone is selling them on Amazon, where there also happens to be the world’s most depressing review of the item:
“The pizza products was so old the special sauce was black and hard, the flower wouldn’t even fold together and the cheese was breakable.”
It’s depressing because that black-plague-looking pizza sauce didn’t ward off this person from opening the flour/flower and cheese packets. You’d think some primitive instinct would have kicked in screaming POISON, STOMACH FLU BAD, DISEMBOWELMENT, but no — this person trooped onward and opened up the flour/flower and cheese packets AND TRIED TO USE THEM. When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. When life hands you Satan’s black crusted body fluids, you try to make pizza out of it anyway.
However, there’s a happy ending to this story. The review goes on to say “Other than that the oven was a winner with the kids after we purchased more products to make pizza!”