This is a styrofoam wig head.

Five year old Miss Boo was using one to hold her Hannah Montana wig.

Last night Miss Boo became creeped out by her wig head and buried it under a pile of princess dresses.

This morning Miss Boo decided that her wig head would be less creepy if she colored it purple.  Then Miss Boo realized that a purple wig head was even creepier and begged me to do something.  This afternoon I found myself scrubbing purple marker off a styrofoam wig head in the kitchen sink.

That’s just one of many things I  never thought I’d find myself doing on a Sunday afternoon. Then I had kids.

Miss Boo went back to work on the wig head with her markers.  She then brought the wig head to me with one of her shirts and asked if I could make her into a fashion girl.  A friend was visiting and helped Boo put this together.   I like having a witness to the insanity to prove I’m not making this stuff up.   Here is Fashion Girl:

Miss Boo told me that Fashion Girl’s legs were not necessary.

But hair was.

So Fashion Girl inherited the Hannah Montana wig.

Boo named her Valerie.

Then she changed it back to Fashion Girl.

Tonight I found Fashion Girl had gone cowgirl and was hanging out with butterfly fairies. And a purple wiffle ball. I was told she uses the wiffle ball to communicate with the dead.

I tucked Miss Boo in to bed for the night, came back to check on her, and found this.

Sometimes in parenthood it’s best to smile, nod, and just walk away and let your kid be a weirdo.

This is one of those times.

I wrote another letter to Chuck Lorre.

He’s actually been to this blog and read the 1st two letters.

I don’t think he’ll be back to read this one.

My China born daughter confused the hell out of us a few months ago when she inquired as to the whereabouts of her WeBot.

We later learned this spider ring was the WeBot. Now all spiders are WeBots.

She REALLY confused us when she freaked out because she couldn’t find her WeBot because he was in the PotPot and she couldn’t find her PotPot.

After much frustration from all parties involved, we finally discovered this was the PotPot.

It’s a bag from a festival in Hong Kong that celebrates buns. And not buns as in cute butts.  The Hong Kong Hot Buns festival coming soon to Pay Per View!

This bag was presented to Matt and I when we landed in Hong Kong on our adoption trip by our friends Vince and Michelle, who moved to Hong Kong from St. Louis.  Michelle packed a Hong Kong survival kit in that bag, which really was a bag from a recent bun festival.

I was amused to find wash cloths in the bag.  Michelle explained Hong Kong was very hot and humid and we’ll need those cloths the second we step outside. I laughed because Vince and Michelle hadn’t been gone from St. Louis for THAT long. Certainly they remember St. Louis has blistering summers.  We can take a little humidity!

Yeah just like the steam room at the gym is a little bit humid.  I was so thankful for Michelle’s bun bag. Hong Kong is an August summer in St. Louis crammed into a steam room.

The bun bag started out being JunaBug’s original PotPot.  But now a PotPot is any bag, any purse, really any container that can be carried. Her Easter basket was a pot pot.

That bun bug is one of my cherished items from the adoption trip. I have to laugh because I just now noticed the only bun on the bag that isn’t smiling is sweating.

The five year old Miss Boo just might be taking my adventures in Hollywood a bit too seriously. Here’s a conversation we had last night.

Miss Boo: Mom, I tell everyone at school that you’re a big Hollywood star and we’re really REALLY rich.

Me: Oh good lordy. Boo, I’m not a star and we’re not rich. Why are you doing that?

Miss Boo: Because! I want the other kids to feel good about themselves for being so poor.

Me: Um… uh… Boo…?

Miss Boo: But promise me none of the other kids will ever come over here.

Me: Why not?

Miss Boo: Because I don’t want them to discover the truth and that we’re really REALLY poor!!

Me: BOO! We aren’t poor.

Miss Boo: Oh yes we are. You’re always saying, “This house is falling apart!” Poor people’s houses fall apart, Mommy.

Me: Boo, ALL houses fall apart. That’s just what houses do. They get old. The walls crack. The paint peels. Rich or poor, houses need work.

Miss Boo: And Mommy, we have SPIDERS! Rich people do not have spiders.

Me: Yes they do. Their spiders wear diamond tiaras. Rich people’s spiders are just better accessorized than ours.

Miss Boo: FOR REAL? Their spiders have jewels?

Me: Yeah, I need to watch what I say around you, don’t I?

Miss Boo: Oh my gawd! I can’t wait to tell everyone at school we’re so rich, our spiders have diamond tiaras.

Me: Oh what your preschool teachers must think of us.

Later I noticed Boo had hung a sign on her door of an angry little girl waving her hands and yelling, “KEEP OUT! GO AWAY!” It’s obviously directed at her Almost Twin sisters, who think Boo’s room is a fairy land filled with dolls they can’t wait to break.

Me: Boo, why is the O in GO AWAY a heart?

Boo: Because I’m saying it with love.

I think I just found a ghostwriter for my new book.