to squat or not to squat.
There are a lot of people up in this house. Right now, the human occupant count is 11. (12 if you count that kid, Not Me.) I have everyday, matching, dining service for at least 20 people. It was once service for 24, but we’ve had a few bowls and plates not make it out alive. Thanks to Correlle, the casualties are minimal.
I take all that back. I *own* service for at least 20. Like everything else in this house, just because I own it, doesn’t mean I know where it is. To be clear, I am not the reason why I don’t know where at least 15 bowls are right now. Yes. 15 bowls. I’d suspect they are in a dresser drawer somewhere, keeping all my spoons company. I have no idea, and I’ve given up on the idea of looking, or even being frustrated about it. It’s just 15 bowls. I’m not in the emergency room, the police aren’t at my door and no one has called me anything derogatory since Thursday.
While I am not bothered by the missing bowls, I am absolutely repulsed at the thought of mismatched bowls. Of course, my particular pattern has long since been discontinued. Thanks to eBay, there are 8 “new to me” bowls headed my way.
In other news, two girls missed the bus yet again. I think three girls missed the bus earlier in the week and one or two the week before. There is always a reason for missing the bus. Those reasons are always someone else’s fault. My favorite reason popped out of Cohorts mouth last week.
“I missed the bus because you didn’t get me a squatty potty.”
Unbeknownst to me, I guess someone has a poop “speed” problem. Cohort insists this can only be resolved by the magic of a squatty potty. So, like every great mom in the month of December, anything I am asked for becomes a Christmas gift. I’m also a bit obnoxious, so I’ve secured toilet accessories to wrap with it. Turns out the people at squatty potty make an entire line of potty paraphernalia. Please, potty people, take my money.
It occurs to me, in this very moment, that’s it’s been at least 6 months since I’ve checked under the girls bathroom sinks. Maybe that’s where all my bowls are.
