Pigs are friends....and food.

Dinner conversation at our house is never dull, ever. But of course when your child is the one named Cheese how can it be?

Dinner is served, we are having a Kentucky tradition for dinner, hot browns. For those who don't know what a hot brown is I will explain. It is turkey or chicken served on top of toast, topped with bacon and tomatoes and then smothered in a cheese sauce. They are out of this world. Of course, Cheese has no tomato on hers.

Everyone is gathered around the table, hot browns set before us. We are digging in and I eye my eldest daughter slurping her bacon up like a piece of spaghetti. I watch amazed at how quickly and efficiently she achieves this.

She catches me eyeballing her and turns to look at me. Some times when she does this the hair on my arms stands up because it is purely evil but tonight it was questioning. Her look read "What the fuck do you want?" and "Take a picture, it will last longer."

"You really love bacon, don'tcha Cheese?"

"Yup, I love bacon. It's good for my belly."

Keep in mind this child probably consumes as much bacon as Wendy's uses in a week on baconators. She could survive solely on bacon alone.

"Mommy, do you think Papa would buy me a pig to keep at his house?"

"Hmmm, good question Cheese. Why do you want a pig? They poop a lot you know."

"I am okay with that. He would be in a field anyway, not like it's our carpet. But baby pigs are cute. They are cuddly and fuzzy and sweet...."

Dramatic pause inserted here because she knows how to work the room.

"And then when they grow up you can kill them and make bacon!"

*cough and choke on my bite*

"You would kill your pet?"

"Yep, the world needs ham mommy."

Point taken, enough said.

"Yes the world needs ham but it wouldn't need your ham, there are farms that grow pigs just for that purpose."

"Well then the ham would be all mine. Bacon for every day."

Bacon for every day folks. And for everyone.

Buzz Lightyear to Star Command....do you read?

Sweet Cheese...she can be the most darling little thing and she can also be the most hateful prat that God put on the face of this earth.

This week we had a short week at school which is always a treat. We only have ten days left at this point but Thursday she pleaded for her Monster to spend the night. I agreed, Monster and Cheese had not had a slumber party in a while, Monster's mom is a teacher so she is crazy busy with all the year end things. The afternoon and night go as beautifully as it possibly can. There were no fights, no screaming, no hitting or pulling hair. They just played, they were just little girls. The took baths and went right to bed like sweet angels.

Morning came, and again, we spent it with no effort, just playing. It was like a dream come true. I went early and retrieved Monster's mom, Shit Weasel. She is down a vehicle at the moment so I did what any one's Bitch Monkey would do and went to get her. We got to do something we rarely do together, we zoned out on shitty television while the babes in toyland played. Around lunch we were reaching total saturation, this is the point in time when the girls have had absolutely enough of each other and should be separated because physical violence usually ensues.

All 3 of the big kids, Man, Monster and Cheese whine that they are hungry...do I look like a chef?? I keep sloughing them off and saying "Just a minute" but in Brianna's own words "just a minute never freakin' comes, Mommy". I tell them I will be there soon enough and to go play. They decide that they are going to play Kerplunk only this one is the Toy Story version and it's a rocket that you fill with LGM (Little Green Men) instead of marbles.

Here comes Monster around the corner, pouty face perfectly intact. "She won't let me help her put the sticky things in."

From the kitchen I hear Cheese, "She can put the ay-glee-ins in."

Me: "Okay, Monster, your job is to put the aliens in, so when she is done putting the stick thingies in, it will be your turn."

This seems like the perfect plan...for the perfect storm.

From the kitchen all I can hear is a low rumbling of bitching between the two of them. Both come from the kitchen, which in our house is has 2 entries to the rest of the house, so they each come from a different direction.

"Cheese is putting the aliens in the rocket and that's my job."

"Well she wasn't doing it fast enough so I can help her."

Me: "Well, you put the sticks in and her job is to put the aliens in. That's what YOU decided."

Monster (always so well meaning yet perfectly timed on when it will piss Cheese off the most): "But that's not fair cause you didn't let me help with the stickies."

Cheese: "Life ain't always about being fair...." in her low Johnny Cash voice with her Gaga eyes. She stomps towards her room and in what can ONLY be described the scene from Jurassic Park when the raptors are on the loose, she slams her head sideways into the wall so hard that it makes our kitchen lights flicker and the a/c kick on.

Shit Weasel turns to look at me, and says "What kind of fucked up life lessons are you teaching this child?"

Good ones, Weasel....VERY good ones.

At least I know she has a a huge shot at the role if Spielberg ever needs another raptor...