TAG-Not the body spray.

Viscous flirt I was back in the day, I loved the game of tag, not so much now that I'm a grown up and well, running is not my strong suit.
So, I've been tagged my Misty, a lovely girl I went to high school with that I must now break up with because she has tagged me on the blogs and in the spirit of chain letters, you are supposed to tag five or ten more people, but my dear bloggy friends DO NOT FEAR!
I will do my part and tell you five funky unknown wacky facts about myself, but I refuse to pass this on...I'm wondering if this will affect the presumed bad luck. Oh well. On with the show.
Wacky Fact One: I don't have any webbed digits, but I know over ten people who do. I know, wacky right?
Wacky Fact Two: I would love to try out for Amercian Idol, despite my decided lack of talent, which a chorus teacher once called, blissfully mediocre. I'm telling you, you can't make this stuff up.
Wacky Fact Three: I love fashion, even though I have the exact opposite body of what fashionable items generally look attractive on. I mean LOVE LOVE, like I read Vogue and even thumb through French Vogue when I know I can't possibly understand the words.
Wacky Fact Four: I have waited tables in over fifteen different resturants, wrap your mind around that. If you need inside info on your fave night out night spot, chances are I worked there at some point or know someone who did.
Wacky Fact Five: I secretly think I look like a boy with long hair and boobs. don't tell my husband.
Whew. Now that we're all done with that, on to post number two for the writing contest...
Toddler Talents. I will be posting a poll or something tomorrow with choice three so you can vote, email, text or smoke signal your opinion.
Without further ADO!!

One of the most exiting things about having children is when they reach ‘milestones.’ The blessed rights of passage upon which you hang all shreds of dignity, and most of your pride. These milestones include walking, talking, holding a toy, getting a tooth, and crawling just to name a few. This is about the lesser known rights of passage that all children reach but we don’t brag to everyone from the Wal-mart checker to our dentist about. It’s about a special set of skills, Toddler Talents.
Popular Opinion varies greatly about when children are actually ‘toddlers’. It can encompass anytime between nine months to three years. I’m of the school of thought that Toddlers are children whose physical abilities have surpassed their mental capabilities. It’s a beautiful and wonderful time. It’s a time for pharmaceutical intervention if there ever was one.
Unmentionable Talent One (Boys excel at this particular skill, but it’s not male exclusive by any stretch)-Nose Picking-Hey Mom I found my nose and its contents all in one day!
Unmentionable Talent Two-Stripping and/or Streaking-Everyone knows naked is better and once children can figure a way out of all clothing, well, you might as well turn the heat up.
Unmentionable Talent Three-Sippy Cup Soaker-If you thought notebook paper and one months worth of bill wouldn’t absorb a sippy cup full of Sunny Delight, you thought wrong. I can drink and pour and drink and pour!
Unmentionable Talent Four-The Shoe/Doll/Book Shot putt- If handing you something you ask for is good, throwing must be better, right? Wrong. So so so wrong. I’ve been hit with so many toys; I can feasibly blame my poor memory on concussions.
Unmentionable Talent Five-The Total Store meltdown-lacking the verbal skills to tell you exactly what your darling child is desiring must be frustrating, however, when the point and grunt caveman method fails to work, watch OUT!! I suggest shopping without toddlers and barring that scenario, take back-up people, who can sprint to the car with the potential meltdownee, preferably a doting grandparent or aunt.
I won’t even mention the advanced course of Toddler Talents, best to leave that for later. I will tell you that you won’t recognize your Mom and Dad once you have children. Best of luck with that. Also, in the face of any new and special toddler talents, resist the urge to say, ‘Why?’ As in, why did you shave the cat and put icing on your doll? Even if they can somehow communicate a reason, you don’t want to know. Trust me.

Also, I finally, finally renamed my blog because I hate being a copycat. The Dr. Pepper wishes and Chicken finger dreams is a play on the Champagne wishes and Caviar dreams. Champagne OK, Caviar, not so much.
Best, R