Echoes and Musings

people foolishly dismiss desserts and treats as having no nutritional value when they actually are necessary for refilling your sanity stat. to prove my point please observe the emotional stability of the next person you meet who doesnt let themselves ever eat any form of dessert

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.

Another good post to read for those writing small human characters. 

My son was about three when he came to me in the middle of the day and said, “Mommy, there’s a knight behind the bush.” I thought he meant a toy knight or something. So I follow him outside and he goes, “Listen. Do you hear it? It’s night behind the bush.” It was a cricket. A cricket was standing in the little patch of shade under the bush, chirping. So, my son saw this dark area with accompanying nighttime sounds and decided, okay, well, that is a night right there. Their brains are incredible.

My little bean knows she’s two, constantly saying proudly ‘I’m two!’ And the other day she saw this very frail old lady who looked one foot in the grave, pulled a face and said ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’ I almost screamed.

OH SHIT SHE’S THREE

the two year old bean is now 11, that’s how long this post has been going around, and I STILL bust out laughing like a maniac whenever I read ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’

Yeah, I’m not ready for foz’s kid to be a teen….

@elodieunderglass I’m going to hold your hand when I say this -

when I was very small, I used to get scared by the car going fast on the highway and shout, “don’t run, don’t run!” at my parents

Gotta say, my absolute favourite notes on this so far have been the number of people congratulating Tony on his rebound from the Grinch.

forget everything anyone has ever told you on the matter the truest marker of adulthood is starting to hear the siren call of high quality kitchenware

to be clear you SHOULD buy that cast iron pan and you SHOULD buy that knife set and you SHOULD buy that fancy rice cooker and you SHOULD buy that novelty mug. high quality kitchenware is always worth it you’re literally gonna be using that almost every day

Love seeing something from TikTok and going “girlie that is literally what led to the downfall of the Papal States”

was outside earlier and a bird Came Up, squatted down, fluttered it’s wings at me and opened its mouth like a hatchling begging for food (it was a grown female) so I went and checked the seed cube in the feeder and the thing was completely covered in mold. this is one of the weirdest things that’s ever happened to me. how did she know im the one in charge of the birdseed. How Did She Know To Pantomime Hunger At Me. Hello.

i have spent my afternoon confusedly getting dressed, driving to the store, purchasing a new seed block, driving home, washing the cage, and getting the feeder set back up. i don’t take this much care for my Own nutrition. ive been bullied into a grocery store run by a tufted titmouse. i feel so loved

had a dream that started out kind of sexy and for a number of irrelevant dream-state reasons involved my having to explain to a partner that i didn't want to suck on his titties. i think it was supposed to turn into an anxiety dream about having to negotiate sexual boundaries but instead he smiled and, very sympathetic, told me "of course - i know you're a freudian, i'm sorry that didn't occur to me," sort of saying he should have remembered how i felt about oral fixations, and then the rest of the dream was me trying with increasing desperation to convince him that i was not a freudian and he just laughed and laughed, like i was being sort of foolish and silly, and said he knew how i really felt, and didn't my unconscious mind reveal the truth about me, and so on. and by then i was so distressed that i was yelling at him in the dream - not that i actually fully realized i was dreaming - and shouted "dream interpretation is a crock of shit!" with such force that it woke me up.