Ahhh kisses. Kisses rule. They are the best thing in the whole entire world. All those first kisses – the last kisses – the ‘goodbye’ kiss. *sigh* Kisses are the best!
Especially when they are a little snotty and drooly and given by an exhuberent Pineapple.
Pineapple kisses are AWESOME! For a while there, she was doing the open mouthed kiss. Then we took a detour to tongue land and we wondered where that came from…the dog? daycare?…hmmmm. Then she reverted back to the open mouth.
Now, she’s blowing kisses, kissing our knees, the baby doll’s face, the dog’s foot, making random kissy/smacky noises when we walk past her…it’s so cute!
At her birthday party, she was having a little ‘stranger danger’ anxiety and she wanted me to hold her most of the time. This led to an episode wherein she grabbed my cheeks between her weensy Pineapple paws, opened up her little maw of a mouth and began to over and over again force me to ‘kiss’ her. *melt*
The other day she started blowing kisses. She hasn’t quite mastered this one as most of the time, she just puts her open palm on her open mouth, makes a groaning noise and then waves the hand away. We (her ever-observant parents) understand this to be blowing a kiss. Yes, it is. Don’t question the parents.
Then yesterday, I was walking past her as she played with her blocks on the living room floor. I looked down, smiled at her and blew her a kiss. She blew me one right back and as I turned to walk away, I heard the tiniest of smacking noises. I quickly turned around and blew another kiss her way. She obliged by shooting one right back…followed moments later by the smacky noise! *double melt*
She proceeded to smack at me for the rest of the evening. DH got a few smackers too and swooned as well at the cuteness that is Pineapple. We are blessed. *tripple melt*
SEGUE – not really but I’m going with it…
On another note, I’ve decided that if I’m every in another country and need to steal a car, I’m stealing a consul car.
This subject came up Friday evening as DH and I were driving to meet my dad and stepmom for an early evening bite. Following is a transcript of that convo for your reading pleasure:
Me: Ohhhh – that car says ‘official consul car’ – I’ve never seen one of those.
DH: Yep – it’s a consul car. That means it’s for whatever consulate representative it has been issued to.
Me: Duh. I’m not completely stupid. I know that’s what it means….how are they issued those anyway? And why are they always black? Who picks? I’d want a super fancy one – possibly bedazzled.
DH: Yeah – anyway.
Me: If you were driving that car, would you abuse the power? Because I would. I’d speed all the time and just drive on the shoulder on I-5 when it was all packed. I’d also park facing the wrong way on streets you’re not supposed to park on. Just to be contrary. Cause you can’t get in trouble if you’re a consulate person thingy. Right?
DH: I’m sure there are rules and that you can’t abuse the privelage. But I know you can’t be arrested. Like that guy a few weeks ago who’d hired illegal immigrants to work at his house and was beating them but they couldn’t arrest him…
Me: Huh?! Anyway. I’d abuse it. And if I were in a foreign country…and I were involved in nefarious deeds and in need of a car…I’d steal a consul car. And then nobody could pull me over.
DH: I’m sure the guards for those are armed or something.
Me: Yeah – but even guards have to use the bathroom and leave the car. And then I’d grab it.
DH: But they’d just report it.
Me: Yeah but they wouldn’t be able to follow me.
DH: And why is that?
Me: Because most likely if I were in a foreign country involved in nefarious deeds, it would mean I was a vampire with vampire reflexes and would be driving so fast the local authorities wouldn’t be able to catch me anyway.
DH: Oh for the love. Conversation over.