Letters from Lisa

Child: “How close are we to being there?”
Me: “Closer than we were.” 

Sitting in the colonial schoolhouse: “This is so much better than our REAL school. No offense, Lisa.”

Upon hearing that a child’s father would take him “out to the woodshed” when he misbehaved: “Why, what happens in the woodshed?”

One boy, on seeing me in my bathingsuit: “I’m glad you’re wearing that and not a bikini. That would make you look… inappropriate.”

Overheard at dinner: “I need to have another cup of soda. I deserve it!” 

Birthday boy, upon noticing the balloons and singing waitstaff and not realizing they were approaching HIS table: “I feel sorry for the poor sucker who’s going to get that!”

Back in the hotel room negotiating over what to watch on TV: “Can we watch the Simpsons?”
Me: “Is it rated G?”
Kids: (collective mutter)
Me: “There must be something appropriate that you’d all want to watch.”
Child: “What about Bad Girls?”
(after the group has stopped hysterical-laughing)
Me: “_______, do you really watch Bad Girls?”
______: “All the time!”
Different child: “Do your parents know that?”
________: (gazing imploringly at me) “You won’t blow my cover, will you?” 

Walking down the hotel hallway with the group of boys staying in my room plus the adjoining room: “We must look so weird all walking together with just all of us and Lisa. Look at you, Lisa. You’re like the Octomom!”

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