The Sonia Show

Warning: This show contains nerdy humor, cartoon violence and foul language.

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Why is the Easter Bunny so creepy?

Yeah, so, why is the Easter Bunny in the mall always so creepy? I have never seen a photo of a kid with the Easter Bunny in the mall that wasn’t nightmare material.


My niece Lucy is strangely not afraid of this Easter Bunny, even though it has creepy tiny hands. Look at its hands!


My nieces Lucy and Olivia pretending they are not horrified. This bunny has hands that are in proportion with its body, but look at it’s cold dead eyes! Cold dead eyes!


My niece Lorelei in 2003 (I think) is probably wondering, ‘Why is this Easter Bunny naked?”

I thought this Easter Bunny thing was a recent phenomenon: A recent marketing campaign designed to bilk money from sucker parents who feel guilty about spending too much time at work. I don’t remember ever going to see the Easter Bunny when I was kid. I was wrong. Apparently, it’s always been a thing. My brother-in-law Tony shared this little gem on Facebook.


Look at Tony’s face … He knew that Easter Bunny was going to eat his cousin.

There are many Tumblrs dedicated to horrifying Easter Bunnies. So, it’s not just our local mall Easter Bunnies that are scary. It’s a nationwide epidemic. The Easter marketing masterminds need to go back to the drawing board on this one. The Easter Bunny costumes are not perfected yet. They need to have limbs that are in proportion with their bodies, and they need to not have COLD DEAD EYES! They shouldn’t be so hare-raising (Get it! See what I did there?) The last thing I want to teach my kid is to accept candy from a dead-eyed monster who looks like he would kill you in your sleep.

Also, question: Why you are taking your kid to see the Easter Bunny? Does the Easter Bunny bring gifts? Is the Easter Bunny basically Santa now? If he is granting wishes, maybe the Easter Bunny should wish to be less sinister. Of course, this is coming from a parent who needed to be reminded that Easter was a thing.



We bought a zoo (membership)

Yeah, so, before I had a kid, I almost never went to the zoo.

I think the last time I went to the zoo (that didn’t involve my kid or a weird work-related zoo board meeting) I might have been 18. I think a boy took me to the zoo on a date, because we weren’t old enough to go to a bar. “Want to walk around and look at animals?” “Umm, I guess.”

What I’m saying is, I go to the zoo all the time now, because my kid isn’t old enough to go to a bar.

Man, oh man, kids love the zoo. They go crazy. They run all over the place, screaming and pointing at animals in cages natural habitats. I like the zoo, too. Most of those animals have it pretty good. I mean, I wouldn’t mind laying around all day while someone brought me food. Sounds awesome.

Some of them are depressing sites, though. I think chimps are way too smart for a zoo. They look like me in a meeting at work; unhappy and bored. Also, the polar bears are a bummer. Shouldn’t they put them in enclosed area with the air conditioner turned up to high or something? They look uncomfortable. Of course, I guess these animals should consider themselves lucky to be here. Some other zoos are not so nice. Oh yeah, that reminds me. Fuck you, Copenhagen Zoo. You are the worst.

So anyway, in the Bay Area, we are really fortunate to have two really nice zoos. The Oakland Zoo is great. The weather is usually nicer in the East Bay, and the zoo is a little smaller. It’s walkable for a little ones. The San Francisco Zoo is bigger and has more animals. Also, it’s about a three-minute drive from our house. Last year we had a membership to the Oakland Zoo. This year, my aunt Jeanne bought us a membership to the San Francisco Zoo, so we go to the SF Zoo most of the time.


The Spawn doesn’t ask us to buy him things … yet. I’m sure that day will come. However, I think the panda hats are really cute, and I finally broke down and bought one.


Family selfie on the zoo train. I’m wearing the panda hat because I wanted to make sure we got our money’s worth.

The San Francisco Zoo has my favorite animals: penguins and giraffes. I could watch them all day. Also, and this is important, the San Francisco Zoo serves beer. I see parents walking around without a beer and I think, “Don’t they know they serve beer here?”

The San Francisco Zoo also recently added a ginormous playground. It’s got three playgrounds for three different age groups, and they are pretty nice. There’s a little area for babies; a medium-size area for toddlers; and a big wooden play structure for bigger kids. Give you one guess which one my kid insists on …


And here’s one of my new favorite things about this play area: There’s a little cafe! They serve coffee and tasty sandwiches. I got the turkey sandwich with pesto, and it was good. The sandwich was $10, and it came with chips. That’s about what I would pay for a decent lunch anywhere in SF.

I told mighty, mighty good man David that we should just start packing up the kid and going to lunch at the zoo on the weekends. It only takes us a few minutes to get there. We have a membership. We can eat our tasty overpriced sandwiches while our kid tires himself out on the playground. Maybe the zoo could be our go-to place?

What’s your go-to place?



My son = outbreak monkey

Yeah, so, I’m a little surprised. I wrote a blog post in which I used the term “ass play” and it didn’t get a million visits. Disappointing, you guys. I guess I don’t really know what you want at all. Ha! I’ll stick to writing about the kid.

As you know, the Spawn has been a boy of few words. Lots of babbling, few words. Long story short: The Boy couldn’t hear for about year, so he’s got some catching up to do. But, he started preschool full time in March, and a lot of folks told us that when he started preschool he would start using more words. I’m happy to report they were right. A month ago it was nothing but babbling with the occasional “NO” thrown in for good measure. There is still babbling, but there are words in the mix now, and even a few questions and sentences.

It’s awesome.

Apparently, there will come a day when I will want the kid to shut up and stop talking, and I look forward to that day. Right now, I can’t get enough of it. After more than two years of trying to anticipate needs and wants or just guessing what he is asking for, it’s nice to hear, “More cracker.”

So, that’s the upside of preschool. The downside? Germs.

Every toddler is an outbreak monkey. A preschool is an entire cage filled with little outbreak monkeys.


The Boy was just sick a few weeks ago. Now, he’s got a runny nose and little cough again. Plus, he infected me! You see, I’m not allowed to have a glass of water to myself. The kid drinks out of my glasses. I’m going to have to start drinking things he doesn’t like. Maybe whiskey.

Because I’m a thoughtful coworker, I kept my sick ass at home. I don’t want to be one of those people that drag their germs into the office infecting everyone. They shouldn’t have to suffer because my kid started preschool. Besides, I don’t need to drag myself into the office and pretend to work. I can do that from home.










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Glen Park is the real San Francisco, you guys

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David got a new job!

He’s really excited, and I am super proud of him. He’s the marketing communications director for a visual effects software company with offices in Bulgaria and Los Angeles. Don’t worry. We’re not moving. David is going to be their man in San Francisco. They hired him just in time for a road show promoting their software, so David is going to be doing a lot of traveling this month. He’s going to be gone for a total of three weeks this month. That sucks, and he will be missed. While he is traveling the world, I will watch baseball and binge watch “Orange Is The New Black” in between Calvin’s episodes of “Thomas the Tank Engine.”

To celebrate his new gig, we went lined up a Calvin sitter on Friday night and went out to dinner to a cozy French restaurant in our neighborhood, Le P’tit Laurent. I love this restaurant. It really does remind me of Paris. It’s small space, and the tables are close together. When we were in Paris, the tables in all the restaurants were so close together. It wasn’t unusual for fellow restaurant patrons to strike up conversations with each other. We had dinner with a lot of interesting people while we were there.

David and I were in a corner table and not really close to other tables, which was fine by us. We were in quiet spot to talk to each other and still people watch. At the table behind me were two couples: A older man (maybe in his early 50s) and his wife, and her sister and her sister’s man. I never caught the man’s name so let’s call him the Chatterbox.

They were kinda loud, but not obnoxious loud. Still, we overheard that the Chatterbox and his wife were in town to celebrate their anniversary. He said something so sweet (sadly, we couldn’t hear that part) that his wife loud said, “AWWWW!” and then they proceeded to make out for an excessive amount of time. It went on so long that the sister-in-law took out her phone. She was probably tweeting, “At the most awkward dinner ever,” while her man stared out the window.

At some point, Chatterbox started talking to the two older ladies at their neighboring table. The Chatterbox and his wife are from Chicago, and they were in San Francisco to celebrate their wedding anniversary, he told them. He didn’t want to have dinner in Union Square. He wanted to see “the real San Francisco,” so his sister-in-law took him to Le P’tit Laurent in Glen Park for dinner. Interesting. I thought everyone considered the Mission to be the “real San Francisco” now. I mean, that’s what I keep reading on the internet, and the internet wouldn’t lie to me.

Anyway, his table’s food arrived, and they ate their food, while Chatterbox shared his life story with the two ladies. He’s from Chicago. He and his wife are high school sweethearts, who reconnected and now they are married. Did he mention that they are celebrating their anniversary? He invited the women to come to Chicago, and he would show them the real Chicago. He took his phone out. He showed them photos. He didn’t touch his food. The rest of the table was quietly eating their dinner. This went on and on. The waiter came and took everyone’s plates away, which was a huge hint that he should probably eat. He shoveled a couple bites of his food into his mouth, in between stories about how awesome Napa is, “the real San Francisco,” and “the real Chicago.”

He completely alienated his wife, sister-in-law and her man. They were clearly annoyed. Over the course of the meal, we watched Chatterbox go from the world’s best husband to the worst. Finally, Chatterbox and the rest of the gang paid the check and they left, but he made sure to get the ladies numbers so when they come to Chicago, he can show them “the real Chicago.”

Me: “Oh man. That man just ruined their evening.”

David: “He did. Did you notice he didn’t have an upper lip? You can’t trust people who don’t have an upper lip.”

Me: “That man just talked his way out of serious action. It’s their anniversary and they’re on vacation. He probably could have gone back to the hotel room and asked for anything and he would have got it. He could have gotten ass play.”

David: “Umm, did you just say ‘ass play’?”

Me: “Yes.”

David: “I thought so.”

Me: “That’s when Sonia ruined our nice romantic dinner by talking about ass play.”

I didn’t really ruin our dinner. David thought it was funny. I don’t think he is ever surprised by the inappropriate things that come out of my mouth, especially after two glasses of red wine.

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The Mommy Uniform

Yeah, so, my name is Sonia, and I wear a mommy uniform.

I wouldn’t say I’m any kind of fashionista, but I usually try to wear cute stuff. I have a closet full of dresses that I wear to work or out to dinner and/or drinks.

Here I am in my cube at work showing off the luggage the corporate overlords gave me for five years of service. Think they are trying to tell me something?

Here I am in my cube at work showing off the luggage the corporate overlords gave me for five years of service. Think they are trying to tell me something?

But, if you see me on a Saturday or Sunday during the day, I’m most likely wearing this:

Or this …

This photo was taken around Halloween at the Oakland Zoo. Obviously, I don't usually wear cat ears on the weekends ... unless David asks me to, and that's not appropriate conversation, so mind your business ...

This photo was taken around Halloween at the Oakland Zoo. Obviously, I don’t usually wear cat ears on the weekends … unless David asks me to, and that’s not appropriate conversation, so mind your business …

Black and white striped shirt from Target and my Old Navy jeans: I think this is totally fine thing to wear to the park or the zoo or whatever toddler-suited activity we have planned. I have always been fine with this outfit until a few weeks ago.

Mighty, mighty good man David and I took The Boy to Sunday Streets in San Francisco. [Allow me to explain for the folks that don't live in SF, Sunday Streets occur once a month, and several blocks in a neighborhood are blocked off to traffic. The blocks are filled with food booths, music, people asking you to sign petitions and activities for kids and what not.]

So, we are walking around the blocked off Embarcadero, and I saw not one, not two, BUT THREE women wearing the exact same thing as me. The EXACT same thing.

“I’m wearing a mommy uniform,” I said to David.

“Well, black and white striped shirts are so hot right now,” he mocked. “I think you look good.”

He’s a nice man.

Look. I get it. I shop at Target. I shop at Target A LOT. When you shop at Target, it’s not like you are getting custom, special clothes. I don’t want to wear a uniform. I don’t want to look like everyone else.

Now, I’m not going to say anything crazy like “I’m not shopping at Target anymore.” That would never happen. Target is two minutes from my office. Also, Target is amazing. Sorry. It’s probably not cool to say that, but it is. I can buy milk , laundry detergent, a living room set and a bathing suit at Target if I wanted to … which I don’t … today.

I will, however, try really hard not to buy anymore clothes from Target. Maybe a few staple items (a cardigan is a cardigan), but maybe I should steer clear of the T-shirts and dresses for a while, just to see how it feels.



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Opening Day

Yeah, so, it’s Opening Day.

Baseball, you guys. Baseball!

As you probably know, we are a two team household. Everyone in our house has San Francisco Giants and Oakland A’s apparel. So, if you want the Spawn to wear your team’s gear that day, the trick is to make sure you are the one that gets him dressed.



Let’s go, Giants!

Also, my office buddy Jennifer and I were the only ones in the office wearing baseball gear. WTF?



New glasses, you guys!

Yeah, so, I got new glasses … again.

This counts as big news in my life, especially because they’re dark blue.

Blue glasses, and my hair is flipped: This is the closest thing I can manage to a "new look."

Blue glasses, and my hair is flipped: This is the closest thing I can manage to a “new look.”

Since I have to wear glasses every day, I’ve decided to start a collection. I need variety, you guys. So far, I’ve got three pair of glasses, and one pair of sunglasses. Up next: some of those New Year’s Eve-style glasses that say 2015, but – you know – with my prescription. I want to be prepared.




The Spawn has a fever, and the cure isn’t more cowbell

Yeah, so, you guys are never going to guess what happened … The Spawn started preschool this month, and now he’s totally sick. Weird, right? I mean, toddlers are well known for not spreading germs, so this is really a shock. *end of sarcasm*

When it comes to being sick, we’ve been pretty lucky with our boy. He’s had a few colds, and there was the time he had to get tubes in his ears, but – in general – our kid has been pretty healthy. Well, until this weekend. Hmm, actually, let me back up. A runny nose and a little cough appeared last week, but it didn’t seem that bad, and he didn’t complain, so we were business as usual all week. But on Saturday, the runny nose and the cough seemed a little worse, and he got lethargic and grouchy. Sure enough, he had a little fever, which hit 103 pretty quickly.

We don’t believe in vaccines or medicine, so we just put him in the car in the sun and hoped that he would sweat it out. I kid. We’re the opposite of that. We think medicine and vaccines are awesome.

When the Spawn’s fever hit 103, David called the advice nurse. While he was on the phone, I tried to keep a calm demeanor, but in my mind I was trying to decide if it was faster to call 911 or drive the kid to the hospital ourselves. I mean, our drive would only be to the hospital while the ambulance would have to drive to our house and then back to the hospital; however, they get to run red lights, and that needed to be factored in. Oh, and have I mentioned that I tend to overreact, medically speaking. I think it has something to do with the time a doctor told me that I mostly likely didn’t have cancer, but I did.

The advice nurse’s advice was children’s Tylenol, liquids and close monitoring throughout the night, and she scheduled a doctor appointment for the morning.

I spent most of Saturday laying on the couch, which I would normally consider an awesome Saturday, but I had a sweating, feverish toddler laying on top of me. And because I didn’t want to wake the kid, I would sometimes text David to bring me things such as a glass of water, even though he was just in the other room. I’m glad we got that unlimited texting plan.

It was a rough night. Calvin went to bed at 8. We knew that we were in for a long night, and we were in bed by 9:30 p.m., which is about 90 minutes earlier than we usually go to bed on a Saturday night because we really know how to party these days. After that, one of us was up every two hours. Parenting is fun.

The next day we learned that Calvin had an infection in both ears and his right lung. The doctor debated doing a chest x-ray, but decided that since she was going to prescribe drugs for the ears anyway, the x-ray was probably unnecessary, but if he didn’t improve we would come back. Poor kid. He is taking a crazy amount of antibiotics, which didn’t really kick in until today. (By the way, I thought kids with tubes in their ears weren’t supposed to get ear infections? That’s why most kids get tubes – they get chronic ear infections. Calvin never had an ear infection until now.)

The Boy spent Sunday doing pretty much the same thing he did on Saturday.

Awww, he thinks he's people.

Awww, he thinks he’s people.

When they are not feeling well, toddlers like to sleep on the couch. Toddlers: They’re just like us.

Today, he is much better. The fever is gone. He is dancing around the house again. He’s eating some. He’s even taking a nap, which is how I managed to find the time to write a blog post. Success!

The fever is gone, but it’s been replaced with cabin fever. He’s stuck in the house with me and Homer.

We’ve been spending our day looking out the window and doing a lot drawing. Let me confess to you that I am a terrible artist. David, on the other hand, is really good. I mean, check out the drawing he did of me in the masthead or this. Unfortunately, Calvin is stuck with me today, so the art has been less than impressive.

So, for your public mocking I present to you, dear readers, a drawing I did for Calvin.



I know, right? We have a squirrel that likes to hang out on our deck, and Calvin thinks it is hilarious when the squirrel sits on the deck chair or gets in the bird bath.

In a few days, Calvin will start drawing better than me. Also, it gets worse. Check out the family portrait.


Now, in defense of how terrible this one is, I drew us as stick figures first, but then added clothes. I don’t want you to think that I drew us with see-through outfits. Also, why is Homer so long? Seriously. I need to take an art class or something.

I am debating bringing these drawings into the office and hanging them in my cube, and when coworkers say, “Oh, did your son draw these?” I will reply, “No, I did. HOW DARE YOU?” Oh, that reminds me of one of the funniest things I have ever read on the internet. Ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on the man who graded his coworkers’ children’s artwork. You’re welcome.


Taking the elevators at BART really stinks

Yeah, so, one of things we love about our hood is that it has a BART station. We just stroll down the hill, and we’re at the Glen Park BART station.

We love to take BART places, so we don’t have to worry about parking, which usually sucks ass in San Francisco. Plus, if we have been drinking, we don’t have to do the ol “I thought you were the designated driver” dance that I’m sure has ended many a marriage. Oh, and the Spawn loves taking BART, too, because it’s a train, and he’s a boy.

But there is one part of the BART riding experience that we don’t like … have you ever used an elevator at BART?

Actually, saying it smells like Bigfoot’s dick is putting it politely. It smells like the inside of a Diaper Genie that’s been to Burning Man.

It’s the worst. Sometimes the smell is so awful, we push the stroller in, push the button for the floor we want and let Calvin ride the elevator by himself while we take the escalator. I mean, why should we all suffer? I kid! Sometimes we push the stroller in the elevator and push it right back out, and we balance the stroller on the escalator.

But here’ s the thing — we have a choice. We can take our chances on the escalator. Someone in a wheelchair doesn’t really have that choice. They have to take that stink ride (that is, if the elevators are even working that day, which is a whole other story)! I feel like someone who uses a wheelchair can sue BART. It’s possible these absolutely foul elevators are a violation of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

I think someone was trying to warn us at the Civic Center BART station.

I think someone was trying to warn us at the Civic Center BART station.

Obviously, some people are using the BART elevators as a toilet, which is awful and sad to think about. We have rolled into some elevators that have a puddle or two, and we turn around and head to the escalator. Most of the time, we don’t see stuff like that, but you can smell it. I have mixed feelings about the person whose job it is to clean up the BART elevators. Part of me thinks they are not doing a very good job, but the other part of me thinks they probably deserve a raise, because that is a shit job – no pun intended … OK, it’s kind of intended, my apologies.


True Detective: Season 2

Yeah, so, we’ve got a mystery in our house for season two of “True Detective.”


Get on this Rust and Marty!

In other news, we discovered over the weekend that the Spawn loves Michael Jackson music.

I think all kids like Michael Jackson music. It’s some weird subliminal Piped Piper shit in the music that draws kids to Michael Jackson, which was his plan all along. Dun dun DUN! I figure it’s safe for The Boy to listen to Michael Jackson now that he is dead. Or he is?! Dun dun DUN! I kid. He’s dead.

Computer update: As you know, the Spawn broke my computer, and I have been computer-less like a goddamn animal for two weeks. Well, a new computer has been purchased. It is scheduled to arrive on Friday, which means I’ll be spending my Friday evening gettin’ crazy on my new computer. Ain’t no party like a Mansfield party, because a Mansfield party involves drinking a beer while making shortcuts and adding bookmarks to her task bar.


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