“Really big underwear,” according to Maya. She’s a little household helper and every time she helps with the laundry, she reminds me that my underwear are really big. Ever since she could tell big from little, she has been pointing this out. I’m pretty sure she learned the difference between big and little by comparing my underwear to other household objects, like the oven and stuff. She’s bad for my self-esteem.

I think we’re all recovered from the birthday fun and the visit from my in-laws, which happened over the weekend. Bryan and I kind of forgot that they didn’t know about our plans to live in Columbus foreverandeverandever because we’ve been saying for 3 years that this was just a temporary thing. Oops. We were just chatting away and talking about things like, are we going to renew our lease when it’s up in June or is Bryan going to look for a job in Michigan and rent there or look for a house there and Bryan and I looked at each other and then looked back at them and I said, “Bryan screwed the license plates on the front of the cars,” by way of explanation. I thought it summed everything up perfectly, but I was met with blank stares and a look from my mother-in-law that said, “I’m adding this to the list of reasons that prove that this girl is retarded.” So we had to tell them in real words that we’re staying, which might have been a much harder conversation if they weren’t so good at blocking out things that just don’t go with what they truly truly want to believe. So they blocked it out and kept mentioning stuff about when we move back to Michigan. Denial can be a handy tool, I guess. Let me try:

My underwear aren’t that big.

Sweet. It totally works.

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