He's going to marry a floozy but she'll have to knit her own hat

M is almost 7. Just a few more days. He already has definite ideas on the fashion and beauty of women. And he's already learned how to beat around the bush to avoid hurting feelings, for the most part. He's also learned to avoid answering the delicate questions.
He like it when I paint my nails red and wear red lipstick. He also likes when my hair is big and curly. He's going to end up marrying a "Fran Drescher" wannabe but he will treat her wonderfully.
I've been painting today and stripping the 20 year old wallpaper from the boys' bathroom. I was quite a sticky, paint-covered mess when I announced that I needed to buy a light fixture from Home Depot.
"You're not wearing *that* to the store, are you mom?"
Actually, no... my 6 year old man. I was planning to change clothes and brush my hair before stepping foot out of the house but thank you for looking out for me.

I'm learning to knit. It's not going well. I can crochet like a fiend. I am a menace with a hook and yarn. But with the needles...let's just say that it requires a lot of thought. ZooDad said he was happy to see me working with yarn again. He said that it seemed to calm me and that I made nice things.
Ha, ha, ha...little does he know that I am trying to knit. I shall be neither calm nor churning out nice things.
I am getting pretty good at making square things with a basic stockinnet stitch. Anything beyond that taxes my brain too much. Everyone is getting washcloths for Christmas.
With crochet, I can veg out and watch TV. The stitches are varied but don't require much thought. With Knitting..."ok the instructions say knit 3 purl 2. Knit, knit, off jumps Jack, Arg...honey, how many knits was that...did I drop a stitch...why do I have an extra loop here...yes, I have to say the little rhyme...if I don't I forget if I'm knitting or purling...was I knitting or purling...aw shoot."
It is far from relaxing and all the chatter annoys ZooDad. But the boys want hats and I just can't find a decent crochet boys hat. And don't even get me started about crocheted socks....uuuuuuuuuugly. ZooDad has issued an ultimatum on yarn work in bed. He found my stray crochet hook in the night. He was not a happy camper.

The enemy called. Not that enemy...the other one. The County schools' special needs director called to set up an evaluation for A next week. I am breaking down and attempting to secure services from the school system. I'll have to see what kind of dog and pony show they have and determine if the hoops are worth jumping through. If we can all play nice together, it might be a nice supplement for my little guy.

The "Attempting to secure services" reminded me...we got new 12 mile Walkie talkies. The boys take them with them when they head out to play. (Not that they go even a half mile from the house.) ZooDad wouldn't let the boys use them until he had taught them proper radio protocol. He's a former communications Officer, so I would not expect less.
I cracked up laughing when I heard my oldest say "BFG, this is Scorpion 1. We are approaching the house. Estimated arrival is 1 minute. Out."
ZooDad said that his soldiers weren't that disciplined on radio protocol. He was a proud Daddy.

And for Dy. Mrs Sheehan is the mother who has been protesting at the President's Crawford Ranch. I alternate between extreme annoyance of her and great pity. She's been saying a lot of things that she really has no area of knowledge of and is being used by some wackos I fear. She got involved in a "sit-in" at the White House and apparently the WHG's didn't find her nearly as endearing as they found me. (bat, bat, bat.)
I did read about the elderly looter that was arrested in NO. I don't quite know what to make of the Men in Blue of that elevationally challenged city. Any news of their actions tends to bring on Tourette's like symptoms where I am shaking my head violently and saying words that the boys will never have on their spelling tests.