That’s what my house is - freaky clean. As in, never been this clean before because we have to pack up half our stuff to get it this way. Which means it must be time to put the house on the market. The realtor came over today to walk through the house and give me some advice about what else we should do to make it show better. Mostly it was little stuff and things I was planning to do but hadn’t gotten to yet (like taking down the zillion magnets on the fridge) but then she also said we should store our loveseat that has been living in the loft part of the upstairs hall in our garage. She has a point, the loft will look bigger without it, but man is our garage getting full. Anyway, we’ve done almost all the things she suggested and the house will be ready to hit the market on Thursday. God help us.
That’s all my life is these days, cleaning and packing, packing and cleaning. Oh and the kids. Yeah, they’re still here. And doing a pretty job of keeping me entertained too.
The other day we were driving home when Zeeb saw this backhoe thing (it looks like a small version of the “Snort” in “Are You My Mother” if that helps anyone form a mental picture) - it’s parked by the side of the road with a “For Sale” sign on it and every time we drive by R~ reads the sign to Zeeb. So he sees the Snort and he says “That truck is for sale. I wish Daddy would buy it.” I laughed and said, “I don’t think Daddy needs a truck like that.” Then Zeeb says, “That truck is for sale…and our house is for sale… Weird!” Something about the way he said it, like it was the most trippy coincidence ever, just totally cracked me up.
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Last night Hubby was putting Zeeb to bed when Zeeb noticed his toenails were getting a bit long. Zeeb told him “Mommy needs to snip my feet.”
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Tonight it was R~’s turn to crack me up. She was messing around way past bedtime, as usual, when she bonked her head on her nightstand and started crying. So I went to her and after I made sure there wasn’t a big lump on her head I told her to lay down and go to sleep. And then I started to worry that maybe it was worse than I thought and what if she didn’t wake up in the morning? (I can go from 0 to Paranoid in nothing flat). So I decided to ask her those concussion questions. “What’s your name?” “My name?” “Yes, what’s your whole name?” R~ rattled off all 4 of her names without hesistating. So then I ask her, “When were you born?” She pauses. “I don’t know.” Okay, let me re-phrase that. “What’s your birthday?” She says the month and day. “What year?” She doesn’t know. “2001. You were born in 2001.” I say her full birthday, month, day and year. “Hey!” She says, having a lightbulb moment, “I was born on my birthday!”
Posted in Zeeb, the big move
