On the phone with my mom today, she said she wished she had a recording of the conversation so she could play it for Harper when she is ten. Unfortunately, we have no phone tap. I guess we can perform a reenactment using this script:
Mom: What is going on? You sound like you are either laughing or crying.
Me: Both. I think I gave Harper a black eye.
Mom: Don’t you hate that! It is amazing they survive what you put them through. When I think of what I did to your oldest brother, Will.
Me: It is not like I dropped her. Harper, no. I was carrying her into the living room. She leaned out at the wrong time, I didn’t stop fast enough, and her head hit the door frame. No touch kitty.
Mom: Is she o.k.?
Me: She is fine. She barley cried. Kitty does not like that. But it is her first Christmas, and, oh, the pictures.
Me: Harper, no. She looks like Rocky. Harper. No.
Mom: Well I guess you can’t put a steak on a baby’s eye.
Me: Spanky does not like that. No. Touch. Kitty.
Mom: And, you pobably don’t have a steak. (See as how you don’t eat meat.) What about frozen peas?
Me: We moved all our food to the basement freezer to make room Harper No for the cookies. HarperNo. HarperNo. We have teething toys, but she won’t hold still. Notouchkitty Notouchkitty.
Mom: You sound like you are busy.
Me: RUN SKANKY, RUN!
Mom: I would just go with the make up.
Me: O.k. Love you.
Mom. Love you, too. Bye.
(Sorry for the lack of a picture. I’ll get my act together soon.)