The End of Porter

  There's this Jeff Foxworthy joke, where he and his brother are kids and they're wrestlin' and they break their Daddy's Jack Daniels Elvis decanter. The punchline is, "This is why we can't have nice things!" My mom collects stuff like that, she's got her John Wayne collectors plate and such, so it was a running joke in our house while I was growing up.

So, a few Christmases ago, my mom gives me this statue of Porter Wagoner. He's the guy who made Dolly Parton who she is today, he gave her her big break, and is an amazing singer in his own right. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq1kEph-wvs

It was on Matt's desk, and yesterday I found the destroyed base with one little foot, a little purple boot on it, the microphone hanging by a wire, with Porter's hand still grasping it firmly. The rest of the body is MIA. Moxie strikes again. I don't know how or when, but she managed to completely destroy it.

You can probably guess my reaction.

"This is why we can't have nice things!"

RIP Porter. Again. You guarded my kitchen nicely. Hopefully, I'll find the rest of your remains today and can give you a proper burial.

You can't catch me...

I just had one of those perfect mommy moments.
She was in her room, playing with Cash
and I heard her sneak into the kitchen.
She grabbed a bag of bread off the counter
and was tearing into it when I popped in there and commanded, "back away from the bread."
So she takes off running.
Instead of her normal steady run,
she's just frantically trying to get away from me, zigging and zagging all over the place,
all the while trying to chew through this plastic bag.
She got over to the couch and she throws the bread bag down
and lands right on top of it, as if it were a land mine,
protecting it from me

But I got it

I'm still bigger than she is