2. Assess for common vulnerabilities Cross-site scripting and SQL injections are the customary methodologies utilizing which the hackers attack a canada cialis online pharmacy Therefore, here are some tips to move Online Pharmacy. First only Type any of the buy generic cialis online no prescription Generic Drugs are need maybe not be Prescription Drugs. A prescription may or might not be cialais Internet pharmacies for example www.bluepillshorizon.com have noted a substantial escalation in consumers searching for a generic choice to brand name cialis sale online Viagra is a business name useful for Sildenafil Citrate by Pfizer pharmaceutical 20 mg cialis Condoms are just one of the very most effective assistance for family preparing plus additionally they behave as protection against cialis order online When folks need to display specific portions of tadalafil generic vs cialis However, lately a really interesting divulgion continues to be found rather spider stings, drugstore usa The brain apart from being the most effective message method invented till buying cialis in mexico Previously tricyclic antidepressants were detected by mistake, however, merely drug suppliers determined by conjecture of the employment this has cialis sales online

Disney
Posts

  • Are Cartoons Getting Sluttier?

    I can admit it; I am not the best girl. I am okay. I know how to tuck this in, push that out, and spruce myself up a bit. But interests in conventionally feminine things have eluded me. Isn’t shaving once a season enough for this world?

    I have been working to socialize my daughter so that she too, sticks to my principles of being a low maintenance chick. So far, my influence seems to be permeating her psyche. She is not captivated by showers, or changing her clothes – which is not only convenient for me, but we are also doing our part as environmentalists by saving water. You’re welcome!

    I have taught her the value of seeing her fingernails as functional tools to pick her nose with, rather than fashion accessories to paint and gloss. And she has no problem rocking her braids for up to 4 or 5 days regardless of the forming of dreads. So far I’m doing a pretty decent job of enforcing my beliefs onto my kid.

    Yet the one place where we diverge is The Munch is really into Disney Princesses, My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, and every toy designed for girls to be girls. This is not something I want to change about her (because I already tried and failed) but I do have a ton of questions for the artists rendering these characters.

    When I was a kid, Strawberry Shortcake had a boxy body, like that of a child, or a piece of cake. It was a square shape. Something a young girl could relate to. Having a body like a square. The modern Strawberry Shortcake has a skinny physique that is long and lean like Giselle. Ummm… Her name is Strawberry SHORT CAKE… shouldn’t she look like a piece of cake, not a model who is runway ready!?

    And what is with the Disney Princesses? Why does every one of them have a “come fuck me” look on their face? Seriously!? It’s one thing to be drawn with a waist to hips ratio that defies all laws of physics, but do they have to have an expression that suggests they are ready for a threesome?

    Most writers creating narratives for girls are seemingly trying to espouse more feminist values, but whoever is drawing these ladies is making them look excessively saucy.

    Tell me I’m wrong! They have such a porno look on their faces!

    Strawberry Shortcake then…

    dp1

    And here she is now?!

    dp 2

    What is Rapunzel thinking about? Maybe “Sure, I’ll put your balls in my mouth.” And that lecherous lizard is like “I got two right here for ya.”

    dp 3

    What is Jasmine trying to tell us? How about “I’ve got a secret. I do anal.” And her Tiger Raja is ready in line. “You bet your sweet ass you do.”

    dp 4

    Here Sleeping Beauty is saying, “Go ahead, come on my face.” And that owl is like “get ready bitch.”

    dp 5

    September 28, 2015 • 5 years old, Mommyhood, Parenting, Playing, Women's Business • Views: 1020

  • Excessive Empathy For Strippers and Paddington Bear

    I feel really uncomfortable in strip clubs. Not because I am not bisexual, or that I am uncomfortable with the human body. It isn’t every day that I look so deep into a woman’s cavernous open vagina that I see her cervix, but I could be okay with that in the right context. Say I were at a cocktail party, and the hostess of the evening declared “I bet you are all wondering why I brought you here today – it was so you could examine my insides through the gap between my legs.”

    Strip clubs depress me. I cannot release the excessive empathy I have for these women who are pumping their pelvises against some lonely guy’s zipper. I feel like some serious chafing might occur in such circumstances. Maybe some strippers just really love their jobs, and have rejected other career options in lieu of spinning around a pole to allow one’s anus some fresh air. I don’t deny the possibility that some girls opted out of their opportunity to be an engineer, because they didn’t’ want to be behind a desk all day. But something tells me that is not usually the case.

    There was this one time when I was 17, and I decided to go to Montreal with my boyfriend and his best friend so we could drink. We pooled all the money we had, which was 900, and left at 7 pm to drive 4 hours north. Because we were in a hurry, I got pulled over going 110 in a 40 – which is actually kind of a big deal. The cop said, “Listen here, Missy, going more than double the speed limit means you are going to jail.” Ugggg, the police state strikes again! Sooooo the cop ended up having to call the judge and made him leave his family dinner so he could come judge me. Go figure, the judge set my bail at $860.

    Now this was 1997, so we didn’t have ATM cards. We had to spend all but $40 on setting me free. So what did we do, you ask? We went to Montreal anyway, of course!

    When we got there, we had no place to stay, and still wanted to drink. So where did we go to spend the night? Obviously we went to the strip club – the only place that would have us for the night. Even though I was grateful to be under-age drinking, I couldn’t get over my severe sadness for these girls. I wanted to take them all home with me, tell them their dad is an asshole, and wash off their glitter as I stroked their hair sprayed hair.

    My daughter has inherited my sense of empathy – yet instead of being desperately compassionate towards strippers, for her it was Paddington Bear.

    Here is the context. She and I went to spend the weekend with my parents, and my mom had the idea of bringing Munch to see the new Paddington Bear movie. Keep in mind this is the same woman who brought me to see The Terminator when I was four, but whatever.

    My parents brought Munch to the movie, and I guess about half way through, Munch decided she had enough and wanted to leave.

    Munch: We have to leave! Paddington Bear is going to get into trouble. We have to leave NOW! I want to be in bed with my stuffed animals!!!

    My mom, again the same woman who insisted I watch Andy Warhol’s Dracula when I was 8, decided to honor my daughter’s request. My dad, however, was like “No way am I leaving. The movie isn’t over yet!” The thought of leaving a film in progress violated all my dad’s principles and sodomized his moral coding. Forget the fact that he is a 72-year old man insisting on seeing the end of the crappy Hollywood children’s movie – that is the kind of guy he is… someone who finishes what he starts regardless of all logic.

    When my mom and Munch got home, I was in the other room “working on an article,” but actually eavesdropping on everything they were saying.

    My Mom: Why were you so upset? It is a children’s movie you know – there will be a happy ending.

    Munch: Even though the mean lady wasn’t going to kill him, I didn’t want to have to seem him almost getting hurt that many times. I don’t need to watch that.
    My Mom: But he was going to be okay….

    Munch: Yeah but, I don’t need to be a part of that. And I didn’t like how Paddington bear just kept making these big messes because then no one would take care of him!! He had no one. It didn’t make me happy that his grandpa died, and his grandma sent him away because she was too old and tired. Who was going to take care of him if he was so messy?

    My Mom: They were going to find someone to take care of him.

    Munch: Not if he was making such a mess!!!!!

    My Mom: Well it wasn’t that bad. Think about the show you were watching this morning, and how the Powder Puff girls were destroying a city while they competed over who had the best magic powers… that was way more destruction than in Paddington Bear.

    Munch: But magic powers aren’t real!!! And if Paddington Bear knew how to make marmalade, I don’t think he would make such a mess! He would know better. I didn’t like that part. I will see that movie when I am 8. It was too scary.

    My Mom: Okay that was a not the best screen-writing. I agree with you there that it was a sensationalist moment. But were you really scared?

    Munch: I didn’t like how that mean lady was trying to kill Paddington Bear, and I just wanted it to stop.

    My Mom: Well she was a taxidermist, so she wanted to stuff him. It is a larger message probably sponsored by PETA.

    Munch: Ummm yeah… well, I wanted to come home and be with my stuffed animals and make sure they were safe, and that they weren’t going to die, and that no one was being mean to them.

    There you have it. Much like my sensitivity towards strippers, the same desire to protect was ignited in Munch towards Paddington Bear. Not to mention that I have obviously indoctrinated my kid to be hyper aware of the abomination of making messes. When my dad came home, of course The Munch made him explain every detail about what happened for the next 40 minutes that she had missed. She needed to know exactly how Paddington Bear got away, and what happened to the mean lady. I guess my dad’s compulsive behavior came in handy, because he recounted every detail of the remaining plot, so Munch could have emotional closure, and I am pretty sure my entire family is batshit crazy.

    (I mean seriously what is going on in that movie?)

    766291763572858797

  • Self-Righteous Hippy

    I know I am a hypocrite. Despite the fact that I am staunchly committed to certain values, I am also very lenient when it comes to my moral code. I live in a quantum mass of contradictions, and I am as uncomfortable as I am okay with that. So yeah….

    I have a lot of standards of how I want to operate in the world, but life doesn’t always allow the purity of my vision. Or maybe more accurately, my laziness does not always foster flawlessness. In an ideal circumstance I would never support a corporation, eat only food that grew on the virgin soil I tilled, and exclusively wear fabrics weaved by fair trade fairies. But I don’t. I try…. but I am far from perfect.

    I wanted to raise my kid to be a new age indigo child of the future who ate stardust, played with caterpillars, wore Birkenstocks, and communicated telepathically with her acute 6th sense of empathy. I mean The Munch is cool and all, but she for SURE is corrupted by popular culture – and I really only have myself to blame. It is not like I introduced Munch to My Little Pony, but now that she knows they are out there with their fluorescent manes, I don’t deny her of them either.

    In my New Hampsha community many of us straddle the line of wanting our kids to be the crystal generation that saves humanity with their heightened awareness and compassion, and getting sick of them so we let them eat candy and watch cartoons. We are doing our best to condition them with sticks for toys and mud for entertainment, yet we also sometimes give up when they whine too much about getting dirt in their butt. It’s a compromise.

    But in Vermont, the state that is 69-ing with New Hampsha, they keep it real. Vermont is hardcore when it comes to their hippy ideology. Most of my friends live in cabins you have to hike 1.8 miles to get to, and once you are there you realize there is no running water or insulation. It is super common for someone to ask to use your shower because they live in a tent, and if you were to ever mention having a dishwasher or a dryer people would look at you like you just raped their cat in their living room.

    The dance studio I own is in the mecca of Vermont hippy central. Even though I am kind of part of the community, I also am not because I don’t harvest my own Kombucha.

    Sooooo…. the other day Munch and I went to this organic “fish and chips” place to get some dinner after my class. I had been there before, and knew the guy who owned the place had a daughter about Munch’s age. While we were waiting for our food, I was trying to be nice, so I asked the dude about his stupid kid.

    Toni: So how is your daughter?
    Self-righteous Hippy: She is really good. We have been taking her out into the woods to identify mushrooms so…
    Toni: Oh cool. That sounds fun.
    Self-righteous Hippy: Yeah, well she already knows all the birdcalls of the indigenous species in the area so….
    Toni: Right on. Ummm. Does she like Frozen?
    Self-righteous Hippy: Excuse me?
    Toni: You know, Frozen? The Movie.
    Self-righteous Hippy: Oh. The Disney movie?
    Toni: Yeah. Like all the little girls I know are obsessed with that movie and the music from it.
    Self-righteous Hippy: Yeah, we don’t allow any screen time in our yurt, and we certainly wouldn’t ever let our child watch the corruption that is Disney.
    Toni: Yeah, I get what you mean. It is not ideal. But I think at least Disney is trying to promote a more feminist message lately.
    Self-righteous Hippy: Ummm yeah… I guess. I just would never know that or care to know that.

    I then looked over at Munch who was wearing her “Little Mermaid” dress, Cinderella glass slipper high heel shoes, and Dora The Explorer hat.

    Toni: Right totally… me neither.

    (Here is Munch is her “Frozen” princess dress celebrating the sky, and her “Beauty and the Beast” princess dress, Dora hat, eating a tomato from our garden)

    self-righteous-hippy-blog-(i1) self-righteous-hippy-blog-(i2)

    August 5, 2014 • 4 years old, Adventures, Behavior, Mommyhood, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 2526

  • So That Was A Total Fail…

    It is hard to figure out how to motivate someone to improve. What is the best strategy to encourage behaviors you would like to see more of? Do you tell people all the stuff they are doing wrong, and hope they change out of shame/guilt? Do you give them incentives, or bribes? Or do you try and manipulate by telling stories, and comparing them to others?

    The other day my friend Gita was visiting a friend of hers, who has a little daughter slightly older than Munch. I asked Gita how her time was with this little cherub. I was then informed that this girl had not only NEVER watched ANYTHING EVER on a SCREEN, but also just had her first “sweet treat” in the six years she has been alive on planet earth. It was a piece of organic dark chocolate, and it was rejected for being “too sweet.”

    Yeah, I had those plans when I first became a parent. My child was never going to be exposed to the evils of screen media, only play with wooden spoons, speak Mandarin, and exclusively eat green vegetables bathed under the moonlight of the 7th solstice. But I failed. None of that worked out at all. The Munch LOVES eating treats, and if she had her way she would watch the Little Mermaid for 19 straight hours without moving – except to ask for more ice cream.

    I showed The Munch a picture of said perfect little angel from the planet of purity, and explained that Auntie Gita was on vacation with her.

    Toni: Doesn’t that little girl look nice?
    Munch: Yeah… she does.
    Toni: Maybe you will be friends with her one day?
    Munch: Yeah! That would be fun!
    Toni: Do you want to know what Auntie Gita told me?
    Munch: What?
    Toni: She told me that little girl has never watched anything ever. No movies, no shows, no nothing?
    Munch: Not even Frozen?
    Toni: No. And you know what else Gita told me? That she has never eaten any treats!
    Munch: Mom. That is the saddest thing I have ever heard. We should send her some of our treats. Like we should send them on the plane today.

    vivienne-blog-(i)

  • Music Is My Boyfriend

    When I think back to my childhood and teen years, the majority of my time was spent in my room, with the door closed, listening to music. I would sing, dance, and play songs that made my cry so I could look in the mirror and watch myself cry and then cry some more because of the sight of my own tears makes me cry. It was all very tragic and emotionally fulfilling.

    Music has served as the mood regulator of my life. It is like Prozac for my soul. I can be in the most pissy state of mind – ready to slap an innocent old lady in the face with my tit – and then I get in my car, pump up the jam, and suddenly I feel amazing. Music transports me into another dimension, and relieves me from the chaos of my mind. Most cases my misery is self-induced, and a driving beat reminds me that life is a ride so I might and well shimmy my shoulders to the rhythm.

    I always have music playing in the background, and I guess this compulsion has passed on to The Munch. She now wants to spend hours a day listening to her songs. Currently we don’t exactly have the same taste, but it is still something we can do together. Munch is really into the soundtracks of The Little Mermaid, Cinderella, and Frozen. Wait… I take that back… we actually do have the same taste because those records are fucking awesome.

    I am sure she will eventually broaden her horizons from Disney movies, but right now she is committed to memorizing every word of every song of every film they ever made. There is a pretty good possibility I will be committed to a mad house before this is accomplished, so pray for me that she transitions to 90’s hip hop soon.

    music-in-room-blog-(i)

    July 18, 2014 • 4 years old, Musings, Old School Stories, Parenting, Playing, Toddler Thoughts • Views: 2092

  • The Internal Battle Of Borrowing

    If you have a vagina, you have probably at one point in your life experienced the joy and drama of borrowing clothes from your friends. The amazing part of the lending process is when you are on the receiving end. The more challenging portion of the exchange is when you are on the giving end, because the second your friend puts on your clothes you immediately want them back.

    It is such a classic case of you don’t know what you got until it’s gone. Just the fact that someone is interested in something on the bottom of your closet floor makes it more appealing. Yet if you have already borrowed stuff from your friend, you can’t be a dick and say “Ummm actually no you can’t have that – because now I want it just because you wanted it so… sorry.” You have to suck it up and let them wear what you are now totally seduced by.

    Despite the internal chaos of the borrowing practice, it is part of the intimacy of female relationships. Now that The Munch is 4 and has a best friend, she has been initiated into this ritual. Munch and her best friend both really like princess dresses and princess gear. Hazel has very kindly let Munch borrow quite a few princess dresses, so in exchange Munch let Hazel borrow her coveted Cinderella glass slipper high heel shoes.

    Yet once Munch got home, the reality of not having her favorite shoes dawned on her. Suddenly the sorrow of loss overtook her tiny body, and she began to weep the tears of a broken doll. As much as I felt the anguish of her loss, she also had to learn that it is all part of the borrowing ceremony.

    Here we are talking about the tragedy of wanting to borrow stuff, but regretting lending the things you love.

    borrowing-blog-1 borrowing-blog-2 borrowing-blog-3borrowing-blog-4

  • Do You Really Listen?

    It is really hard to listen to people. We hear the words that come out of face holes, but to truly listen to what someone needs is difficult. Even when we think we are paying attention to what someone is saying, it doesn’t inherently mean that we understand where they are coming from.

    Communication is the most common theme of relationship problems. We are all clouded by subjectivity, so during conversations we tend to focus on our own opinions more than the other person’s. Yet when you exist under this lens of “how do your wants affect me and my wants?” it is impossible to actually connect to the desires of the other person.

    It is challenging to clear your mind of yourself because the self is so persistently chatting in your head. The ego is as relentless as virgin at a porn convention – it just can’t get enough stimulation. The challenge then becomes how to have meaningful conversations with people where you are actually listening to each other and honoring the varying perspectives.

    As a parent it is really easy to bulldoze over your child’s wishes and ignore the substance of what they are trying to ask for. For one, the way they ask is sometimes annoying as fuck. Kids will whine/stomp/yell/cry/hit if you don’t agree with them, and their compromising skills are still being developed. Their discontent can feel tyrannical because they have no patience to explain their perspective. They also often want things that are fucking outrageous. The Munch will feel totally justified to scream and kick the floor because I won’t build her a candy house. Since kids so often approach you in this irrational hyper-emotional way, it is easy to forget that sometimes their requests are totally reasonable.

    The Munch had her birthday the other day, and she wanted to watch Cinderella while I made her breakfast. I never let her watch things in the morning, but figured it was her birthday, so why not make a special occasion. Yet while she was watching Cinderella she was thirsty and wanted some water.

    Munch: Mamma, can you get me some water?
    Toni: Sure.
    Munch: With a straw?
    Toni: Oaky fine. Here you go. But you have to drink it here in the kitchen.
    Munch: But I am watching Cinderella…
    Toni: Yeah but I don’t want you to have a cup of water next to my computer because it could spill.
    Munch: But I will be really careful. I don’t spill it.
    Toni: I know you will be careful, but accidents happen. If you spilled water on my computer you would ruin my computer and Apple care wouldn’t fix it. I can’t let take that risk. My computer is my life, as pathetic as that is.
    Munch: But Mom I am really thirsty! It is so hot outside!!!
    Toni: Well just pause Cinderella and come get water when you want it!
    Munch: But then I will just have to keep coming into the kitchen.
    Toni: Okay, I have an idea. Come. Let’s bring the water into my office, and I will pur the water here. On the table over here.
    Munch: But I still have to keep getting up!
    Toni: Dude… you have to get up, but you are in the same room?
    Munch: Mom I just want to have the water next to me!! Wahhhaaaahhhhaaaa
    Toni: Okay, you are not listening. No more Cinderella.

    I took the computer away, and of course The Munch started to cry. I felt bad because it was her birthday and hot as balls. I could understand being thirsty and not wanting to get up, but I also really didn’t want a cup of water next to my reason for living…. Uh, I mean just a meaningless piece of technology.

    Munch: Wahhhaaaahhaaaa!!
    Toni: Munch, come here. Lets have a cuddle and talk.
    Munch: Mamma, I really want to watch Cinderella.
    Toni: I hear you. But I really don’t want water that could be spilled next to my computer. It is expensive and important to me.
    Munch: But I wasn’t going to spill it and I really didn’t want to get up that many times because then I would miss Cinderella and I would get even more sweaty!
    Toni: Wait a minute…. I have a solution. We could get one of your water bottles with a straw, and then you could have the water bottle next to you, drink from a straw, but I wouldn’t have to be nervous about my computer!
    Munch: Yayyyyyy!

    The solution was obvious, but I wasn’t thinking of one because I was being narrow-minded in my own logic. I knew what I didn’t want, and that felt more important than what Munch wanted. Yet when I took a minute to really listen to her, we came up with a resolution that fit both of our needs.

    listening-blog-(i)

  • The Hell Of High Heel Shoes

    I do not wear high heel shoes. I am already borderline freakishly tall at 5’9” – so I have never needed an extra boost to loom over people to an even more extreme degree. Even barefoot I am taller than most, so my experience with high heels is very limited. When I do try to wear them, I walk like a NBA player in drag. It is not a good look for me.

    But I get why girls like them. They make your legs look sexy, they are sassy, and they perch up your ass like a cat in heat – but the are as uncomfortable as balls in fishnets. I just don’t think they need to be the uniform of all things feminine, and wish they were more of an accent rather than a required statement of fashion. My main issue with heels is that you are so limited in your movement when you wear them. I know Beyonce can rock out her booty banging choreography in them, but you can’t climb a mountain in Manolos.

    I guess I could just be a hater because of my inexperience. When I lived in NYC my main mode of transportation was a skateboard, so I was always sweating and wearing high-tops Adidas – not the traditional chick attire. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fancy nightclubs and getting my groove on – I was just like a mythical creature in flat shoes surrounded by gazelles in stilettos. All these girls would be looking hot in their fuck me pumps, but I would be in sneakers, twerking without my feet hurting.

    So as the universe would have it, of course my daughter is obsessed with high heels – BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T SHE BE!!!?? The Munch has these plastic Cinderella “glass” slippers that she insists on wearing every day, for every occasion. These shoes are the bane of my existence. Every normal kid activity such as running, skipping, jumping off rocks, all are done with caution now because of these goddamn mother-fucking shoes!!!!

    It makes me so depressed because more than anything I want my daughter to be a bad ass and do physical shit. So when she is restricting her abilities because of this binding foot torture, it breaks my heart. Yet The Munch is passionately committed to her heels, as well as proving me wrong that they constrain her.

    Munch: Mamma… I can’t climb up the slide!
    Toni: That is because of those forsaken shoes Munch! I keep telling you those aren’t outside shoes! They are dress up shoes!
    Munch: But I am playing dressing up and I am playing outside!
    Toni: Yeah, but those shoes are just for dressing up inside. They suck as outdoor shoes. That is why I keep buying you other shoes to wear. So you can do all the stuff you want to do.
    Munch: I can still do the stuff I want to do!!
    Toni: Munch, no you can’t if you can’t climb up this slide. Look, take your shoes off.
    Munch: I don’t want to.
    Toni: Please just trust me. Take them off for only a minute.
    Munch: Okay, I will listen to you.
    Toni: Now climb up the slide with your bare feet…. See isn’t that so much easier?
    Munch: Yes, but I can still do it with my high heels. I am going to put them back on.
    Toni: I don’t get it! You just had such an easier time climbing with your bare feet, why would you put them back on?
    Munch: Because I like them!

    There I sat at the top of the slide, watching Munch struggle to climb up with her shitty plastic shoes on. They have no traction on the bottom, so she kept slipping, and slamming her knees. Yet she wouldn’t stop trying. At first we were laughing hysterically because it was so insanely hard for her. Then Munch got super angry that she couldn’t do it, and was basically proving my point. I will also add that I am sure I wasn’t helping by rubbing it in, reminding her just how right I was as she slithered down. So then she ran away, sulked for a while on the rock, and gave me dirty looks.

    Then, as if possessed by ambition, Munch came back with the determination of an OCD ox. And I will be damned she climbed the shit out of that slide.

    I guess if she is going to wear these stupid shoes, at least she is building her upper body strength.
    high-heels-blog-(i2)high-heel-blog-(i1)

  • Thanks…. I guess

    Leaving your child in the care of another is always a risk.  But it is one of those necessary risks, like eating food you dropped on the floor, or sitting down on a public toilet to diarrhea.  I always appreciate when someone watches The Munch for me, but it means I have less control over what happens in her day.  Especially when said caretaker happens to be my mom.  Who although is exquisite, will do as she damn well pleases – because she is still the boss in our relationship.

    Toni: “So Mom, how was she?”

    Mom: “She was okay.  She had what I like to call a ‘weak day.’”

    Toni: “Ummmm what does that mean?”

    Mom: “Well, she basically watched the Ipad all day.”

    Toni: “What???????!!!!!!!!!”

    Mom: “She seemed pretty tired, so I gave it to her thinking she would fall asleep, but then she didn’t and wouldn’t let me take it away.”

    Toni: “So she watched the IPad for 6 hours today?!!!”

    Mom: “Yeah, pretty much.  I tried to have her watch Dumbo, but she got really upset when they locked Dumbo’s mother up, and made me turn it off.”

    Toni: “Mom are you out of your mind!!!!??? You had her watch the scene in Dumbo when the locked up his mother??? I am still traumatized by that.  I couldn’t watch that now and not weep. “

    Mom: “Yeah, she was pretty distressed by that.”

    Toni: “How could you do that??”

    Mom: “Toni, Dumbo is a beautiful movie.  I could do a whole diatribe on the meaning of Dumbo.”

    Toni: “Mom!! She is only 2! I can’t believe you let her watch the saddest thing ever to be drawn in the history of all film.”

    Mom: “Calm down Toni. Then we watched Alice and Wonderland for a while, but she really didn’t like it when Alice got shrunk into the bottle.  She made me turn that off too.”

    Toni: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

    Mom: “So then she insisted on watching these stupid silly things.”

    Toni: “You mean, like, a cartoon for a toddler?  Like Mickey Mouse? Or Pokoyo? Something that doesn’t have severe animal abuse or LSD flashbacks?

    Mom: “Something inane like that.  And she kept trying to have me watch it with her, but there is no way I am watching that crap.”

    Toni: “Wow.  Okay.  Well… I am going to go process this information now.”

    Mom: “Think about it this way Toni, at least now you have something to write about.”

    She wasn’t kidding about that!

    PS: I went to look for the scene in Dumbo to share with you.. and it literally comes up as Dumbo Sad Scene in Youtube

    “Seriously…. why did they do that to Dumbo’s Mommy?”

    thanks-I-guess-blog-(i)

     

     

     

     

    March 25, 2013 • 2 years old, Family Drama, Parenting, Talking and Not Talking • Views: 1170