Katie

My dad told me yesterday that he loves reading my blogs but that he finds them a bit cranial. I'm rather surprised at the possibility of having a cranial output of anything other than coffee sludge and hydrogenated oil, but I guess miracles can happen. But for today, dad, this one is for you.

Every cold and flu season, Jake and I get plugged ears. Some people get the constant sniffles or a tickly cough but Jake and I become deaf as doornails and as a result, our conversations around here can be quite entertaining.

I was getting ready to roast a chicken the other night and I was stuffing it with a lemon and some rosemary. The kids love hanging around the kitchen while I cook because there is always some sort of excitement. Last time I put a roast in the oven, the smoke detector went off. One time I BBQ-ed burgers and they caught on fire and stayed aflame even after I had transferred them to a plate. Good times.

So the kids are all loitering around the kitchen watching me stuff the bird and I swear that this is what Jake and I heard Katie say: "why are you stuffing a lemon up that bastard's bum?" And if you could see this sweet girl with her blonde ringlets and kissable lips and doe eyes, saying something like that, you'd die laughing just as much as we did.

One night we were all sitting around the table having dinner and we were discussing Lance Armstrong, how he was able to have kids after having testicular cancer. Very maturely, we talked about he had his sperm frozen for the future before his testicles were removed. Katie, however, had had enough. All of a sudden she pushed her chair away from the table, stood up and yelled "I HATE TESTICLES!" and stomped up the stairs to her room, slammed the door, reopened it, and slammed it again for punctuation.

I love that girl. I must have done something right.