You’re not a lady if…
This morning I awoke to some sort of weird ceremony taking place on my bed. Aidan was in our bed, hiding under the covers when her brothers came in. They climbed on the bed, stood there very proud like and yelled a lot. When they stopped yelling they could hear Aidan yelling under the covers. It must have been some sort of top secret “go ahead” yell, because they immediately raised their duplos to the sky and cheered, then began to dance around in circles stepping on their father’s legs. This carried on for some time. I didn’t mind because Ben was the one getting stepped on and it was entertaining to Zoe. It was almost like an additional 15 minutes of sleep.
Ben had to be at work at 11:30 today, so we didn’t go to church and I ran out early to get the grocery shopping done. I made the mistake of saying “you guys” in Wal-Mart instead of the traditional, “y’all.” The lady looked at me confused, like she couldn’t understand what I was talking about. The same way my family looks at me, when I talk.
And listen to me, please. If you are a southerner and a lady, I don’t want to see a bumper sticker on your car that says; S.L.U.T.S. Southern Ladies Under Ton of Stress. If you have one of these on your car, you may find me in the parking lot one day, with a scraper and some finger nail polish remover, removing that ridiculous sticker. You’ve been warned.
