Whips, Biscuits and Angel's Wings

One of my New Year's resolutions was to stop worrying what people think of me. So, of course, this had to happen:

I called to my husband in the backyard to come discipline the kids. He was not there, but I heard him talking, so I peeked out into the alley and saw him talking to one of our neighbors.

So I yelled, "Morgan just hit Annie with a whip!"

And my husband says, "...and this is my wife."

I didn't have my glasses on. It is our new neighbor that just moved in. So I, worried that I made a bad impression, walked over to try to correct the bad impression, wearing yellow rubber gloves, and for some reason, carrying a big package of Pillsbury biscuits.

I said, "Sorry, I wasn't wearing my glasses..." then realized I couldn't very well say, "I wouldn't have mentioned my children whipping each other, if I had known you were a new neighbor, that I wanted to impress, and not our old neighbor, that I don't like anyway." So, I just kind of rambled on and on. The guy got away as fast as he could.

So I spent most of the night, saying things like, "Was I rude?" to my husband and worrying what our new neighbors think of me.

Which reminds me of when we first moved to this neighborhood. We had had a bad time in our old neighborhood, with the neighbors actually calling the police on us, because they felt our baby was crying too much (we had three kids under four years old).

So I was anxious about our new neighbors, and when we met the first one, a single man, I quickly pointed out how I hoped we wouldn't bother him, because our kids were so noisy.

He said something like, "How could these angels be too noisy?"

My six year old replied, deadpan, "It's our wings rubbing together that makes all the noise."