When I first re-started writing my blog last January, I discovered google reader and became, hmm, somewhat addicted. I added other blogs all over the place until the day google told me I had over a hundred new entries to read, when I had only checked the previos night. I did a huuuuuge cut down then much to the benefit of my lunch hour.

But there are a still a few women I read religiously like The Pioneer Woman and all those amazing culinary goddesses in the sidebar who have formed a conspiracy to massively expand my waistline.

And Heather Armstrong’s hugely read blog Dooce. She makes me literally laugh outloud and then email what I just read to Jen or my mum, or both if they’re lucky. To spare them today I am just going to quote the conversation with her daughter she typed up and plead with you to go read the whole of the rest of her blog :)

Leta: “Mom, I love to read.”

Me: “I know, Leta. I think that’s awesome.”

Leta: “My friend Hannah can’t read.”

Me: “It’s okay that she can’t read, Leta. Not all five-year-olds can read.”

Leta: “No, she can’t read because she’s tall.”

Me: “Oh, really? That’s how it works?”

Leta: “She’s tall, and I want to be tall and you never let me be tall!”

Me: “Whoa, hold on there.”

Leta: “IT’S NOT FAIR! I JUST WANT TO BE TALL!”

Me: “Leta, I married the tallest one I could find. I DID MY PART.”

Leta: “YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING!”

Me: “And have you seen my brother? He’s six-foot-four! I’ve given you nothing BUT tall.”

Leta: “WHY WON’T YOU LET ME BE TALL?!”

Me: “Are we seriously having this conversation?”

Leta: “ALL I EVER WANTED WAS TO BE TALL!”

Me: “Aren’t you supposed to be busy throwing rocks at windows? Isn’t that what most kids your age are doing? HERE, TAKE THIS PERMANENT MARKER. GO WRITE ON THE WALLS.”

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