Being Mexicos

This has been one of those just truly awesome weeks so far. And by awesome I mean I would rather eat a bowl full of the weird, jelly granules that exploded out of my son's diaper this morning than relive Monday - Wednesday thus far.

It just better be a small bowl because that stuff is nas-tay.

Last night left me examining my kitchen appliance priorities. What I mean by that is that if I got a new refrigerator I'd be all, "in your face bitches, check out my ice box!" or if I got a new stove/oven then it would be, "I'm baking up some crazy shit in this, yo!" with some pictures. A new mixer or blender? Yeah, that would be the cat's pajamas, even.

Okay, I probably wouldn't use 'bitches' or 'yo' but you get my drift. Okay, okay, I'd totally use bitches, shut up. I'd totally say 'holla' too.

So my point here is that last night we freaking got a new garbage disposal, yo. Yeah, that yo thing is still uncomfortable for me. Jason went and picked up a shiny, new garbage disposal. And yeah, who cares right? It grinds up old food.

See? Kitchen appliance priorities. They're screwed.

One time, Monkeygirl exclaimed with excitement that, "You can fix anything, Jason!" So he beamed from ear to ear when he, yet again, came to our collective rescue and replaced the disposal. Seriously, the man has never failed us yet.

However, I totally rained on his parade when I asked, "But does it still count on your 'fix anything record' if you didn't actually fix the broken disposal, you just replaced it with a new one?"

In the flash of an eye, he whipped around and looked at me and said, "it didn't work when I got home and it works now! I fixed it." And while the vocal inflection he put on the word 'fixed' let me know I better not say another word about it, I wouldn't have anyway. He totally fixed it and we totally could grind up the last of those Thanksgiving leftovers because indeed, Jason can fix anything! Thank God for that.

After Jason did that and made our fridge a place we could hang around again, I settled onto the couch with Crazyman for some book reading. As I cracked the first book, one about animals with pull tabs (the book had pull tabs, not the animals, never mind), Monkey looked at me and said, "Hey Mom, at recess, me and McKenna pretend like we're Mexicos."

This is the point in the evening where typically I nod my weary head and say "Oh that sounds like fun!" or "Hmmm, that's interesting." But I have to say, she stumped me with that one. Mexicos? How do you pretend like you're Mexicos. Suddenly I started to work up the speech I was going to have to deliver about how we have to be careful about pretending to be Mexican when some of her classmates are Mexican, but I thought better.

This was a situation where I better put the "that's a nice picture, why don't you tell me about it" game into play instead of guessing it was a tree when it was the Empire State Building. And really? I knew how to be Switzerland but I couldn't fathom how to be Mexicos. Plural, even.

Me: Mexicos? You pretend to be Mexicos?

Monkey: Yeah.

Me (growing more confused): Like the entire country of Mexico, you pretend to be the country?

Monkey: Yeah, or no! I mean no!

Me: No?

Monkey: No, I meant we pretend like we're IN Mexico.

Me: That makes more sense. But how do you pretend you're in Mexico?

And with that she held up her arms to cradle an imaginary guitar that she strummed wildly and sang "oooooooh, oooooh, we're in Mexico!"

Looking proud of herself she then informed me that, "and then we go over to the grass and we're in Russia."

I didn't even ask for fear she'd start doing imaginary shots of Vodka behind a clear Iron Curtain.