Finding Joy in the Pain of Others

1. Picture the scene . . . I'm walking out the front door on my way to the car. I glance over and see this neighbor in his front yard with his hose. He has one white knee sock pulled all the way up; the other hovers just above his laced black shoe. His Richard Simmons shorts cover just enough skin so that I'm not blinded, but his worn until thin t-shirt makes evident that he is turning into a hunchback. He's turning knobs both high and low trying to turn on the water. For some reason, the hose refuses to yield said water. He turns more knobs. He slowly draws the hose nozzle to his face and peers inside the tiny little holes. He turns another knob. Water sprays all over his face. I speed to the car, mouth covered, and close the door so that he cannot hear my laughter. I fight the urge to jump back out of the car, run over to him, and laugh in his face. But I really, really wanted to. I deserve a cookie, no?

2. Daycare has reported that Alexis now feels the need to ask "Who's that?" each and every time she sees a person. I can tell you that she already knows every one's name; I've heard her say many of their names. The fact that there was a tiny bit of annoyance seeping through the teacher's voice as this was reported leads me to believe that somebody needs to grow some thicker skin. I think I find enjoyment in somebody being so easily annoyed. Actually, I know I do.

3. Last night Alexis was watching Signing Time while Daddy cleaned the upstairs bathroom (Yes, women, my husband cleans bathrooms. Stay away from him--he's mine.) It got to be time to switch to the Steelers game. Listening to them yell at each other "It's Signing Time" "It's Steelers Time" "Signing Time" "Steelers Time" "Signing Time" "Steelers Time", well, that's just plain good fun.