United We Sing! OH OH OH OH!

Lauren's last day of preschool coincided with Aislinn's final performance of the year. She was part of a musical called "United We Sing." I managed to get everyone bathed, fed, and out the door to make sure Aislinn got there on time. She looked adorable, but in the end, her music teacher ended up accidentally eliminating lines from 14 kids, including Aislinn - it was more of a concert than a musical. Nevertheless, Lauren and Marty enjoyed themselves, and all the way home (literally, I'm talking 15 minutes worth) Marty sang his version of the lyrics:

"When I hear you sing! OH OH OH OH!"
"When I hear you sing! OH OH OH OH!"
"When I hear you sing! OH OH OH OH!"
"When I hear you sing! OH OH OH OH!"
"When I hear you sing! OH OH OH OH!"
"When I hear you sing! OH OH OH OH!"

Excellent Personnel Management

Today as we were getting ready to leave for school, Marty kept saying, "I'm going to see Lauren's teacher, and Lauren's going to see mine." When we arrived at the CDC for Lauren's last day of preschool, we found out that Marty had predicted the future. In yet another example of the outstanding leadership at the CDC, Lauren's teacher was moved for the day into Marty's hourly care room. I guess the CDC management figured it was easier for every kid from preschool to have to track down their teacher in the hourly room to say goodbye, than to put off the reassignment for one day. As you can imagine, Lauren was thrilled to be spending her last day of preschool with two of her three teachers, and one teacher she had never seen before.

Memorial Day Weekend

Memorial Day weekend was pretty much a blur for me, since I spent a great deal of time sleeping, reading, or enjoying a cold cocktail and expecting other people to keep an eye on the kiddies. Here are a few stats for the weekend:

Trips out to lunch: 1

Trips to the Pool: 3

Trips to the beach: 1

Trips to the beach cancelled due to excessive fog: 1

Snowcones: 3

Boxes of Froot Loops consumed: 1.5

Largest Dinner Crowd: 13

Number of Days Aislinn made everyone’s bed: 3

Number of times Marty carried puzzles out to the porch: 50

Number of times Marty carried puzzles back inside: 0

Number of times a grinning Lauren went end to end in the pool wearing water wings: 15

Number of times I managed to take out my camera to record the hijinks: 0

Boyson Ivy

Following a discussion of whether a weed in the yard is poison ivy:

Lauren: Mommy, what's poison?

Mommy: It's something that's bad for you. If you eat it or drink it, you'll get really sick.

Lauren: Oh, what's girlson?

More Domestic Unrest Caused by Tic Tacs

From the kitchen this afternoon, I heard Marty running down the hall, and then heard him say "I hear something."

The next thing I know he has pushed open the bathroom door where his grandmother is using the facilities.

Marty: Grandmom, I hear some tic tacs. Do you have some tic tacs Grandmom? Do you have some tic tacs in your pocket Grandmom?

Grandmom (in the manner of a very good sport): Just give me a minute Marty and I will give you a tic tac.

Seconds later:

Marty: Mommy, Grandmom just gived me some tic tacs, a red one and a green one. Here Mommy, you eat the red one. You eat the red one, Mommy

Mommy: Marty I really don't..

Marty: Shoving the sweaty red tic tac into my mouth, and then putting his five red fingertips on my pants leaving quite the pawprint): There you go mommy! Grandmom's sharing with me and I'm sharing with you!

I'm Going on a Picnic...At the Loony Bin

After a delightful pasta dinner at Roma Ristorante, we all piled into the car for the 5 minute ride home. Here’s what happened:

Grandmom: Alright, I promised Lauren we’d play “going on a picnic.” I’ll go first. I’m going on a picnic and I’m going to bring apples.

Aislinn: I’m going to bring bananas

PopPop: C – I’ll bring cocaine

Grandmom: Bob…

PopPop: Ooh, sorry, shhh

Marty: I’m bringing Toy Story jellies

PopPop: That doesn’t start with C

Lauren: How about carrots?

Aislinn: How about chocolate chip cookies?

Lauren: D – I’ll bring donuts

Marty: I’m bringing Toy Story jellies.

Mommy: E- Eclairs

Grandmom: F – Fritos

Marty: I’ll bring a pumpkin treat for C

Aislinn: G- Googies! (Grandmom's childhood word for eggs, taught to the kiddies by Auntie Kate)

Grandmom: Googies! I’m going to get that Kate. What for G Lauren?

Lauren: I said grapes

Marty: Let’s play thinking of a color

Grandmom: H for Aislinn

Mommy: I bet you’re going to say hotdogs

Marty: Let’s play thinking of a color

Aislinn: No, I’m bringing a hobo on a hot dog

Marty: I’m bringing pumpkin treat for C. Grandmom, let’s play thinking of a color.

Grandmom: Okay Marty is it red?

Marty: No.

PopPop: I’m bringing ice cream for I

Grandmom: Is it blue?

Marty: No.

Mommy: J for Juice

Grandmom: I’ll bring a kite for us to play with. Is it green?

Marty: No.

Lauren: I’ll bring lettuce and lemonade

Aislinn: No Lauren, you should bring lots of money so you can by a treat

Lauren: No, I said lettuce and lemonade

Aislinn: But if you brought lots of money…

Mommy: Aislinn, you are M, you bring money

Grandmom: I give up Marty, what is it?

Marty: My favorite color is round with stripes on it and one polka dot

Mommy: What color is that Marty?

Marty: Peach.

PopPop: I’ll bring narcotics.

Grandmom: Bob…

PopPop: Okay, N for nachos

Mommy: O for Oreos.

Grandmom: P for popcorn. Q, Lauren how about quiche?

Lauren: No, I’ll bring a queen.

Aislinn: R – Rum cake!

Marty: Let’s play the rhyming game. Mommy, know what rhymes with head?

Marty: Mommy, know what rhymes with head?

Marty: Mommy, know what rhymes with head?

Mommy: What Marty.

Marty: Said.

Grandmom: Who has S?

Marty: Mommy, know what rhymes with our house?

Mommy: What Marty.

Marty: Sour Souse. Mommy, know what rhymes with car?

Mommy: What Marty.

Marty: Sar. Mommy, know what rhymes with dog?

Mommy: What Marty.

Marty: Sog. Mommy, know what rhymes with road?

Mommy: What Marty.

Marty: Soad.

(HOME AT LAST)

Mommy: I guess Marty’s got the S.

bmbvhkjhitjuuihuij

Our little Marty has become quite adept at working the computer mouse. I know it is easy to train children to perform like little monkeys (hence the kids on the Late Show who can name all 43 presidents), but we have never really had that sort of ambition for our kids. Basically we made the mistake of letting the girls use the computer, and after a few months of sitting and watching them play, Marty decided to teach himself what to do. He can navigate between games and jump from Noggin to Nick Jr. and back again. When a box pops up, he doesn't hesitate, he just starts typing stuff and when the box is full hits enter. The title of this post is a search he performed on Google (strangely there were no results).

He can't start Explorer on his own (yet) and he can't type his name (yet) but it is nice to see he is so ambitious. Hopefully he will be this interested in learning when he finally gets to school.

So Long, Farewell, (We'll Be Right Back)

Part of my planning for the big outing to see the Sound of Music today was to avoid having either of the girls announce in the middle of “My Favorite Things” that they had to go to the bathroom. This was important because visiting new bathrooms is one of their favorite things. They both went to the bathroom right before we left so that they would be good until intermission. Unfortunately, we had to arrive so early and the show started so late, that by the time intermission rolled around, they were both desperate to go, and it had nothing to do with checking out a new bathroom.

The fatal flaw in my planning? I assumed that the theater would be filled with other families from on post. Instead it was filled, to the brim, with little old ladies. Some came on buses, some came in vans, some drove themselves. But whatever the mode of transportation, there were probably 200 little old ladies in the audience, and at intermission every one of them needed to use one of the two ladies' room stalls available for the entire theater. Although the situation began to dawn on me as Maria was sneaking back to the Abbey, I did not get a big enough jump on sneaking to the rear of the theater, so by the time we got there the line was already out the door. Not to disparage the little old lady population, but they are not what you would call speedy when it comes to having their turn in the ladies’ room.

So I did the last thing in the world that I ever want to do, I put all three kids back into their carseats and drove two blocks to another public bathroom. I figured with 200 little old ladies in line at the theater, the intermission was going to have to be extended. The girls went to the bathroom and since we had missed our chance to get popcorn when we fled the theater, I bought them a quick package of starburst (quiet candy), loaded them back up and drove back to the theater and put the car back in the same spot. The worst part about this entire episode was that I had to carry Marty (who is becoming quite the heavy young man) and hold Lauren’s hand for much of the journey, and now I feel I may permanently lean to the side (an ailment that may come back to haunt me when I am a little old lady).

When we got back to our seats, we still had another 5 or 10 minutes to spare. As the lights dimmed and the orchestra started its overture, I made a mental note to endow new bathrooms at the theater if I ever win the lottery.

Excuse #426 to Avoid Housework: Housework Causes Confusion

Today I had a full day of housework lined up for my free five hours, but unfortunately I didn't realize that today was the preschool end of school picnic. Although the picnic was wonderful and fun, I was left with very little time to do chores before the kids came home (and somehow that always seems to be the case). Still, I attempted to do a little straightening up with the time I had left since we are having company next week. When we arrived home from school this afternoon, Marty ran into the living room and then immediately back into the kitchen.

Marty (looking quite alarmed): "Mommy, there's nothing on the rug."

Me (I had taken off the slipcover from the couch to wash it): "You mean there's nothing on the couch?"

Marty: "No, there's nothing on the rug."

Me: "Do you mean something spilled on the rug?"

Marty: "No Mommy, come see."

We went together to the living room.

Marty: "See Mommy, there's nothing on the rug."

Me: "You're right Marty. There's nothing on the rug. That's what the rug looks like when Mommy cleans up the living room."

Later when we were coming in from playing outside, Marty eagerly pushed the door open and said "Let's see if there's nothing on the rug." But by then the kids had been home for more than two hours and had worked their magic in the living room. "No," he said in relief with a little smile, "There's not nothing on the rug."

New Pictures

Actually they are clearly old pictures, since they are from Christmas. However, with a "Creating Web Pages" book in front of me, a great deal of help from the exceedingly well organized flickr.com, and approximately 30 tries destroying and then reconstructing my blog, now you can have a visual aid to the stories.

Unfortunately, entropy reigns today. Lauren cried for a full 15 minutes this morning because she doesn't know how to spell Playhouse Disney. It doesn't matter that I'm willing to spell it for her, she wants to know it NOW.

Aislinn began crying at 5 pm when I told her it was time to go inside and do homework (a big mistake because she was playing with older girls who, although they were not being especially nice, were paying attention to her and making her feel included). While filling in her math worksheet and alphabetizing her spelling words, she continued to wail “How could you do this to me, momma? How - could - you - do - this - to - me?” Although she would pause periodically to say “Mommy, could you bring me some Gatorade?” and then resume wailing.

Needless to say, I took a glass of wine with me when I went to give Marty a bath. Apparently the cocktail was a sign to him that he should put on a floor show.

First he lined up the rubber duckies on the side of the tub and gave them a ballet lesson (APPLAUSE). Then he did a little crazy dance to provide them with a “ROCK IT” lesson(APPLAUSE). When he was done dancing, he dunked the ducks back into the water and lined up a bunch of the bathtub letters on the side of the tub. Then he began to sing the following song at the top of his lungs:

“All the girls love to spell my name! All the girls love to spell my name! MBFREWASDGHLX spells Martin!”

When he sat back down, he looked at me with an angelic gaze and said, “Thank you, mommy. Thank you for listening to my song.”

Any time, cute boy. Who says the twos are terrible?

Jiminy! It's a Photo Essay!

Today I dropped the kids off and came home to check e-mail before heading out for a walk. As I sat in the quiet, I heard a familiar sound, tick....tick....tick... like a pretzel bag slowly unrolling after you have tried to close it or like a full but unbalanced plastic grocery bag that is moving atom by atom towards falling off a chair. Unfortunately, I didn't hear a bag fall off a chair, and I hadn't recently closed a bag of pretzels, so when the sound continued, I began to fear I had a varmint in my house. Here is what I found:

Clearly this cricket has not been reading my blog and doesn't know my feelings toward crickets(they should stay in the corners of the closets) or that I always have a pile of boxes and packing material in the front hall. (This picture also provides a closeup view of the results of the Army paint grenade that is used to paint houses between residents). I felt a little bad for him, but he got himself stuck, and I knew if I tried to free him, I would just end up pulling his legs off. So I left on my walk, and later remembered that I should go get his remains and put them in the trash before the kids came home. Here is what I found:

and this:


"Well good for him," I thought, but I really figured that he had left so much of himself behind on the tape, that he wouldn't last much longer. When I went to find the remains later, here is what I found:


Oh my. I hope he's not angry. I may sleep with one eye open tonight.

At Least It Wasn't Thunder Snow

With all due respect to Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe (uh, no I didn't have to look that up), I do not understand the appeal of the following lyrics:

The rain may never fall till after sundown.
By eight, the morning fog must disappear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For happily-ever-aftering than here
In Camelot.

Last night we had what I believe was the fifth nighttime thunderstorm since March. Since we live in Virginia, and since it is technically still spring, and since there is no such thing as global warning, I must conclude that this weather pattern is an aberration. That doesn't make my situation more bearable.

Last night around 1 am, the storm woke Marty who then needed to crawl into bed with me. When I woke up around 5 am at the edge of the bed with Marty plastered to the side of me, I saw that Lauren had joined us, and she in Marty were in a whispered discussion about rising and shining. Since the storm was over I took Marty back to his bed and tossed a threat at Lauren that she'd better be quiet (I would have sent Lauren packing too, but I was not in the mood for a 15 minute debate on the topic of where she should sleep). Lauren and I eventually got back to sleep, but that sort of night's sleep is not really conducive to having a great productive day.

Several weeks ago, all three of them got in bed with me, and there was nothing I could do. The storm was scary and sending them off in the dark would probably just have spawned repeat visits where they woke me and asked if they could stay. But several days ago we had a thunderstorm during the day, when Lauren and Marty were busy playing in the toyroom. Marty called out "Mommy, I'm afraid of the storm" in the same sing-song he uses to say "Mommy, Lauren's not playing nicely." So apparently they are ready to face thunderstorms during the day (Marty was just covering his bases, going on record that he was still afraid so he could point to it later as evidence), and yet all of our thunderstorms keep coming at night. So let's reprise:

The rain may never fall till after sunrise
By noon the swings and trampoline must dry
In short there cannot be
A moment's peace or glee
For mommy 'til the thunderclouds roll by
In Old Fort Lee.

The Mother's Day Loot

Although this mother's day was spent without a husband around to orchestrate the activities, I did come through with a pretty sizeable haul:

From the HP: Flowers that are quite nice although I don't know what they are

From my sister-in-law: a lovely green Coach wallet with a wrist strap

From Marty: A handprint card; a hilarious 15 minute floor show where he mercilessly hounded my sister Erin for some of her milkshake.

From Lauren: A bouquet of flowers made out of coffee filters and pipe cleaners; a painted card; a card with a flower made out of a muffin wrapper; a Hello Kitty card that she instructed me to buy without looking at it; a little plant in a little jar that she decorated herself.

From Aislinn: A book of mother's day coupons (that I can use in about 5 years, when she is strong enough to turn on the hose herself and wash the car); a "Greatest Mom in the World" laminated award; a blue construction paper card and a flower card with MOM poems inside; a bookmark with her picture on it; a Clifford certificate stating I am very talented at reading.

From Erin: Free lunch at Ruby Tuesday's; 90 minutes to watch Sunday Morning; 90 minutes to read the paper; baths for all three kids.

Thanks everybody, it was a great day.

Happy Mother's Day to Me

Who could possibly be cuter?

Know Your Mommy

Here is Aislinn's homework, "A Moment with Mom," and the answers I gave her at 4:40 pm. In parentheses are the answers I would have given if she had asked me at 7:40 pm.

1. My mom's name is SHANNON.

2. Mom's favorite food is ICE CREAM.

3. In her free time, Mom likes to READ. (DRINK)

4. Mom's favorite vacation spot is THE BEACH.

5. Mom's favorite holiday is THANKSGIVING. (CINQO DE MAYO)

6. She likes that holiday because SHE LIKES TURKEY, FOOTBALL, AND HER RELATIVES. (DRINKING TEQUILA IS ENCOURAGED).

7. My mom likes it when I SING. (Aislinn's premonitory guess was "I SLEEP")

8. What my mom likes best about being a mother is WATCHING US GROW AND BE HAPPY. (WATCHING US GO TO BED).

But tomorrow's another day...

Where Do You Get Those Seeds?

Today we received the school cookbook put together by the PTSO. In the back it has lots of hints about how you can fight childhood obesity. In the front it has three pages of macaroni and cheese recipes listed under "Vegetables."

Nope, It's Not a Tic Tac

Question: What is green, under 1 inch tall, and brings a daily dose of happiness to my kiddies?

Answer: It's this:



Lauren's daisies (The dirt was dug out by a squirrel who had better stop messing with our plants or no more boogers).

And this:



Aislinn's sunflowers (as you can see, I have a bit more weeding to do, but kids like buttercups).

Note to Self: Buy Nature Book

Earlier today Lauren desperately needed a tissue, but I did not have one.

L: That's okay, Mom. (picking her nose with one deft finger, then looking around for somewhere to deposit her find.)

M: Just wipe it off on the ground, Lauren

L: Yeah, because boogers aren't trash, so if you put them on the ground then that is not litter.

M: You're right, that's not litter.

L: Yeah, and besides squirrels eat boogers.

Dumb Ass Revisited

Oh Zachy,I thought my wish had been granted and you had toddled off to Supermax and would never be heard from again. Unfortunately, you found grounds to appeal that no other criminal in the history of US jurisprudence has come up with: "My original trial was too fair."

When I Say "Chicken Patty!!" You Say ???

What word leaps to mind when you see this dinner?



Quick? Semi-nutritious? Carb-loading?

For some reason, in our house, the word is always "chopsticks."



Following this dinner, Aislinn got out the dustbuster to clean up the rice she had spilled, took her plate and cup to the kitchen and washed them, and then asked if she could do the other dishes. She also asked if she could take her bath first and then give the other two their baths. The puzzled look on my face prompted her to say “You do things for me all day, so I want to do some things for you.” Later in the evening she straightened up the living room and the kitchen. I know I didn’t get much sleep last night (thanks to Keisha’s boyfriend), but I must look so exhausted, that even a 6 year old felt compelled to help me. What can I say except: “Yay Aislinn!!!”

In other news, when Lauren, using her “British” accent, asked me what she could do to help, I said “Drink your milk.” Her answer: “Straightaway!” Who taught her that? She couldn’t tell me. While she drank her milk, Marty attempted to teach me a game where you crawl past the sofa then run headlong across the room and into the recliner. He was quite surprised when I passed.

I'm Cold

This Saturday my sister-in-law and I took the kids to the beach to play in the sand before we went off to Ocean Downs to play the ponies. It was 81 degrees and sunny at my parents' house, one mile from the beach. It was cloudy, windy, and considerably chillier on the beach. However, the kids dug for sand crabs and built sand castles and tossed a frisbee for a while without complaining because they had something else on their minds: snow cones. They have been reminiscing about snow cones since we left the beach last summer. Although they got a snow cone at the circus and another one at the zoo on one weekend last month, it wasn't the same, because those were premade snow cones, not the type where you can choose the flavor.

After showing considerable restraint and playing for almost 45 minutes without badgering us, we led them up to the boardwalk and although things didn't look promising, we asked in one snack bar if they had snow cones.

"Yep, first ones of the season." The man went behind the counter and got a crate of syrups and a block of ice and brought it all out to the snow cone stand that had been like a shrine to the kids last summer. We left there with a green one (allegedly lemon-lime), a blue (supposedly raspberry) and green one, and a purple (reportedly grape) and blue one.

By this point the sun had disappeared and the wind had increased and things really weren't so pleasant on the beach, but we had three very happy kids. They sat together on a towel with other towels draped over them like blankets and set to work devouring hefty servings of artificial colors and flavors. When they had eaten their fill and their lips were sufficiently blue,either from the dye or the cold,they suddenly noticed the weather. One by one they announced "I'm cold," so we packed up and headed back. Something tells me all the separation pay we are receiving is going to finance a snow cone cart renovation this summer.

Who The !$#@& is Keisha?

When your husband is in Afghanistan, particularly on a day when he has told you he will be flying around in helicopters, here are some things that you don't want to happen:

You don't want to wake up at 1:12 am and wonder why you are awake;

You don't want to spend a few minutes hoping that you haven't been startled awake because something has happened to him;

And you definitely don't want the phone to ring at 1:16 am.

I suppose if for some reason all three of those things happen, you should be glad to hear "Is Keisha there?" rather than "This is the American Red Cross," but in the confusion surrounding the onset of cardiac arrest and the noise of my head exploding, I heard myself say "What?"

"Is Keisha there?"

"No." Click.

When I caught my breath and realized that what I thought was the end of my world was actually a very poorly timed wrong number, I switched into mother mode and began to formulate what I was going to say if the dumb ass called back and woke up the kids with the ringing.

This morning I have tried to think of a way to exact revenge on the moron who ruined my night. I suppose I could take his number from the caller ID and give him a well placed call back tonight. However, I think any punk dumb enough to: 1) call his girlfriend at 1:16 am and 2) ask for her repeatedly from someone who could be her mother and was obviously recently asleep, eventually will either wander into traffic or a drug deal gone bad and relieve the general public of his presence.

Thank You Chicken Little, Kiki Dee, and Elton John

If you would like to know what my trip to the beach was like tonight, do the following:

Assemble 3 children.

Teach them the following line: "Don't go breakin' my, don't go breakin' my, don't go breakin' my heart."

Have them sing it repeatedly without a break for 11 minutes.

Welcome to my world.

What Happened When A Crappy Bracelet Broke

Today a rather sad Lauren came to me to confess that she had broken a bracelet of Aislinn's - one of those rubber "LIVE STRONG" types, only this one said "BELIEVE" and I think was somehow related to The Polar Express. My solution was to put it in the trash where it would, more likely than not, be forgotten. Lauren's solution was to wait for Aislinn to get home from school, and then confess. Here's what happened:

L: I'm really sorry Aislinn, but I broke your bracelet.

A: What bracelet, Lauren, show me.

M: It was that red rubber bracelet and it's in the trash.

A (marching to the kitchen for some trash picking): Lauren, what did you do?

L (starting to get a desperate edge to her voice): I'm really sorry.

I decided to wait and see what happened next. Aislinn fished the bracelet out of the trash and then came up with the most unexpected response.

A: Oh Lauren, this bracelet had a little crack in it when I got it, and I kept bending it back and forth, making it worse, so it's my fault too.

Wow. This may seem like a boring little incident to the average reader, but to the mom that is trying to turn them into functioning citizens, this was a banner day.

Conversations That Shouldn't Be Ignored

While distractedly straightening up and putting laundry away this afternoon, I overheard the following conversation between Lauren and Marty:

Marty: I smell something

Lauren: That smells like someone's barbecue.

Marty: That smells gross.

Lauren: That smells like someone blew out a lot of candles.

Marty: I don't like that smell.

Lauren: Don't worry Marty, it just smells like someone has a fire.

Me: Hmmm, none of the windows are open, I wonder what they smell.



Oops. Maybe next time I'll investigate a little quicker.

Breakfast Business

This morning Marty decided that since he had eaten a banana, breakfast was over and he deserved a treat. When I told him that we didn’t have treats after breakfast, he began a rather heartfelt crying jag. As I sat on the floor with Marty on my lap and attempted to console him, Lauren the litigator took a seat on the book basket and gazing down from her perch, stepped in to gently explain the situation to me:

L: Mommy, I think he is upset because he really wants a treat.

M: I know Lauren, but we don’t have treats after breakfast.

L: Daddy gives us treats after breakfast.

M: No, he doesn’t.

L: Well, on Halloween Daddy gave us peeps right after breakfast. I think he’s just more fun than you.

M: Halloween was a special day. He doesn’t give you treats every day after breakfast.

L: I know, but that’s because he’s in Afghanistan.

M: I gave you peeps after breakfast on Easter, didn’t I? See, I’m pretty fun.

L: Erin gave us peeps before breakfast on Easter.

M: Uncle.

Perhaps Lauren found the clarity and energy for her argument in the three bowls of Clifford Crunch she had eaten. We bought Clifford Crunch after the bastards at Kellogs discontinued Tiger Power.



As you can see it is organic with whole grains! Wonderful!



They made their box out of 100% recycled paperboard! Commendable! They participate in box tops for education! Admirable! And yet, a bowl of Clifford Crunch looks like this.



I never had a cat but I have seen Meow Mix commercials. Little fish and little x’s and little arrows – isn’t this cat food? If they bought the old cutting dies from a cat food company, I applaud them for recycling, but I think they should include this in their marketing so that people know why their kids' breakfast cereal looks like a meow meal. Otherwise, I think they should evaluate the mental health of their marketers and developers, because if the cereal is not going to look like people food, I think it should at least look like dog food – bones, fire hydrants, piles of fur perhaps.