Brady Envy

We had a teachable moment here yesterday morning - I got to instruct my daughter on proper dress (as in, if your entire butt crack shows when you bend over, you need to change your jeans before you go out) and she got to instruct me in just how much she doesn't care about our dress code. I don't remember ever seeing this sort of thing on the Brady Bunch. Which, I'm belatedly realizing, has been my guide to parenting all these years. No wonder I can never get all the housework done - I've been sitting around waiting for Alice to show up.

After Anna changed (loudly), she and Theo went out kayaking, which provided me with a much-needed respite from the teenage death glare (also never seen on the Brady Bunch); I spent my morning productively cleaning up after all of Susie's toilet-training accidents. Oh, and I made David cry by suggesting we work on his book report. Cross that one off my to-do list.....

I lost my head later when I picked up the teenagers from the bus and foolishly asked Anna if she had had fun at the boathouse. I received another death glare for my troubles. A couple of hours later, I woke her up from a nap to take Susie to the swings so that I could escape to the bookstore with David (they were having an educators' reception there). Death glare #3 - I never learn, now do I? But I left anyway. The reception was great - David ate handfuls of M&M's and I feasted on the Brownie Bites. I entered a few drawings, because I love freebies. Anyway, the festivities were interrupted by Anna's calling me to tell me that Susie had once again peed on the floor. Ah! Another teachable moment! I described to Anna the absorptive qualities of dishtowels and recommended that she see for herself how well they would wipe up the puddle (that would be the lab portion of the class). She hung up on me (she had no other option, as the Death Glare cannot be administered over a phone line). She's not going to get a very good grade for comportment this semester, I can tell you.

The stomach-virus fairy is still conducting mop-up operations around here (no pun intended); David "felt funny" last night (we weren't sure what that meant, but we supplied him with a dishpan and got him off the top bunk, just in case) and Anna woke up complaining this morning. I mean, more than usual. So she's downstairs watching Fiddler on the Roof, a nice wholesome movie that may have a pogrom or two, but at least Tevye isn't snorting cocaine out in the barn and none of the daughters' butt cracks are showing. And all the swear words are in Yiddish. I'm sure Carol Brady would approve.