Haiku Thursday

MY COMMUTE – when I take Metro – has me walking right by a Dunkin’ Donuts that’s on the ground floor of my office building. I like sugar-coated fried dough as much as the next girl, but to me, the ones at Dunkin’ are just so… ordinary. So unremarkable. Especially when compared Krispy Kreme, which produces what I believe is the absolute perfect glazed doughnut. They even spell “doughnut” correctly, and even though they use K’s where C’s belong, I’m completely willing to forgive this sin because the product is superlative.

I’m just not even tempted to pop into Dunkin’ on my way into the office. Maybe I would be if they offered a better donut. Maybe I would be if they had fountain sodas. Absent those two things, there’s no reason for me to do anything but walk on by.

It was this realization that inspired today’s Haiku:

Copy of #HaikuThursday (1)

Fastnacht Day: Do you know where your doughnuts are?

WELL.  If you don’t know, then you should probably just make some of your own. That’s what all my people did. You should too! You can use this handy shopping list (you’re welcome!):

YOUR SHOPPING LIST

Flour

sugar

vegetable oil

sugar

milk

eggs

butter

yeast

…and for heaven’s sake, don’t forget the SUGAR!

More potty talk

So, you remember earlier that I mentioned my sister and her son visited us last weekend? Well, they did. My nephew J is just about the same age as my own preschooler, and they played so well together.

In a display that could only make me think that someday, they will be fantastic teenagers, they had the following exchange. The boys were sitting at the kitchen table, eating doughnuts breakfast doughnuts. (Shut up, like you’ve never allowed your three-year-old to eat a doughnut!) Curt walked back the hallway towards the bathroom.

J: Hey, where’s Uncle Curt going?

Me: I think he’s going to the bathroom.

E: Oh YEAH, I bet he’s going poop.

[Editor’s note: My bad, I broke my promise yet again, as I am now discussing poop. AGAIN. Which may give all six of my readers some insight into my world. Seriously, it’s like this, a lot. I know.]

J: Or maybe, pee.

Me: I don’t know which. Maybe you should ask him when he comes out.

J (to me): No – you can ask him! You ask him!

Me: Really, I don’t care which he’s going, but if you want to ask him, go right ahead.

[Curt comes back through the kitchen]

Me: Boys, do you want to ask Uncle Curt?

E: Did you go poop or pee?

Curt: Actually, just pee…

E (disappointed): Oh.

J (also disappointed): Oh.

Isn’t it just like a boy to have to know who did what in the toilet? And it’s just a sign of things to come, too. My older boys talk about it ALL THE TIME, despite my insistence that that’s an inappropriate topic for both the dinner table AND at church, or the grocery store, or wherever. Like, I know it’s a normal bodily function and all, but do you have to talk about it so often, and in such painstaking detail? GAAAH!

And who are we kidding? It’s not just li’l boys that talk about bathroom habits. Curt and his (allegedly grown-up) buddies occasionally come around to the same topic of conversation. Signifying what, exactly – old habits die hard? Dunno, do I?…

I guess I should be happy that Curt didn’t actually fulfill the boys’ wish, as he would have no doubt felt compelled to provide a play-by-play account, and possibly also share with them some relevant stories from his college days. Because, you know, it’s so rare that you really impress the kids anymore! Yep, come to think of it, having heard some of those stories myself, I am most definitely NOT disappointed that Curt…ONLY … went pee.