Child #2: Mom!
Me: Yup?
Child #2: Did you know that I am fluent in SEVEN different languages?
Me: [curious, considering he was only seven years old at the time] I didn't. What are they?
Child #2: English, French, Spanish, Chinese, German and Russian.
Me: That's only six. What's the seventh?
Child #2: Ewok.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Santa
After the following discussion, I decided Child #2 wasn't quite ready for "the talk":
Child #2: Mom, all the kids were talking about Christmas and Santa today at school.
Me: Oh?
Child #2: Yup.
Me: And what were they saying?
Child #2: They were trying to decide if Santa really exists or not.
Me: [deep breath] And what do you think?
Child #2: Doesn't really matter. I already know the truth.
Me: You do?
Child #2: Yup.
Me: And you're okay with that?
Child #2: Yup.
Me: Do you have any questions?
Child #2: Nope. It's just that everyone was wanting to argue with me but I didn't say anything-just listened. But, I know the truth and I'm the only one.
Me: [skeptically] And what exactly IS the truth?
Child #2: Oh, everyone else believes that Santa isn't real.
Child #2: Mom, all the kids were talking about Christmas and Santa today at school.
Me: Oh?
Child #2: Yup.
Me: And what were they saying?
Child #2: They were trying to decide if Santa really exists or not.
Me: [deep breath] And what do you think?
Child #2: Doesn't really matter. I already know the truth.
Me: You do?
Child #2: Yup.
Me: And you're okay with that?
Child #2: Yup.
Me: Do you have any questions?
Child #2: Nope. It's just that everyone was wanting to argue with me but I didn't say anything-just listened. But, I know the truth and I'm the only one.
Me: [skeptically] And what exactly IS the truth?
Child #2: Oh, everyone else believes that Santa isn't real.
Star Wars: The Parodies
We are Star Wars Nerds around here. Actually, we may just be nerds around here that like Star Wars. Either way, it's what we are. We are not ashamed.
Which usually brings quoting the movies at random moments throughout the day...or night...or dawn...or lunch...or while we sleep or whenever.
But, as the boys get older, they have come up with some of their own set of quotes. I call them:
"Star Wars: The Parodies"
(You'll only really understand these if you have ever seen the movies about 17 billion times.)
"Luke. You are the chubby one."
"Help me, Chubby-Wan Kenobi! You're my only hope."
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Things That Go BUMP in the Night
Every mother LOVES to be woken up at midnight by the soothing sound of a loud crash and a few bumps over and over and over...right?
Sure. No worries.
I had just fallen asleep when I really heard a super loud BANG! coming from Child #2's bedroom. It happened again and again. So, I did what any loving mother would do.
Me: [pushing husband off the bed] Hon. Go check on that.
Husband: What?
Me: Seriously! You didn't hear that?
Husband: What?
[another CRASH! followed by Husband leaping out of bed followed by a few muffled words followed by very sleepy yet somehow audible words]
Child #2: Let me out.
[crash]
Child #2: Let me out.
[crash]
Husband: Son, what happened?
Child #2: Let me out.
[muffled words followed by calming fatherly words followed by the sound of Child #2 getting back into bed followed by husband getting back into bed]
Me: What happened?
Husband: He was trying to get out.
Me: What?
Husband: He was trying to get out through the bookshelf.
Me: Over and over again!?!
Husband: Uh huh. Pretty much bumped everything off the shelves and now he's back in bed and there's a huge mess on the floor.
Me: Oh. 'kay.
Husband: G'night.
Me: 'night.
Sure. No worries.
I had just fallen asleep when I really heard a super loud BANG! coming from Child #2's bedroom. It happened again and again. So, I did what any loving mother would do.
Me: [pushing husband off the bed] Hon. Go check on that.
Husband: What?
Me: Seriously! You didn't hear that?
Husband: What?
[another CRASH! followed by Husband leaping out of bed followed by a few muffled words followed by very sleepy yet somehow audible words]
Child #2: Let me out.
[crash]
Child #2: Let me out.
[crash]
Husband: Son, what happened?
Child #2: Let me out.
[muffled words followed by calming fatherly words followed by the sound of Child #2 getting back into bed followed by husband getting back into bed]
Me: What happened?
Husband: He was trying to get out.
Me: What?
Husband: He was trying to get out through the bookshelf.
Me: Over and over again!?!
Husband: Uh huh. Pretty much bumped everything off the shelves and now he's back in bed and there's a huge mess on the floor.
Me: Oh. 'kay.
Husband: G'night.
Me: 'night.
What's For Dinner? Armpits!?!
Our dinner discussion tonight.
Child #2: Our Sunday School teacher today told us that it is impossible to lick your armpits.
Child #1: No it's not.
[raising his arm in an attempt]
Child #2: Yes it is.
Husband: Actually, it's not. See?
[actually putting down his fork in an effort to convince this S.S. Teacher wrong]
Child #3: I want to try.
[joining his father]
Me: Let's not really try.
Grandma: Try it!
Me: You're not helping, mom.
Child #1: I can almost do it.
Child #2: You can not. Nobody can.
Me: Seriously, guys. We're eating dinner.
[glancing around to see all four men trying to lick their armpits]
I'm not quite sure how it all ended, but I'm pretty certain I remember slowly and ever-so-dramatically burying my head into my arms as they rest upon the table.
Child #2: Our Sunday School teacher today told us that it is impossible to lick your armpits.
Child #1: No it's not.
[raising his arm in an attempt]
Child #2: Yes it is.
Husband: Actually, it's not. See?
[actually putting down his fork in an effort to convince this S.S. Teacher wrong]
Child #3: I want to try.
[joining his father]
Me: Let's not really try.
Grandma: Try it!
Me: You're not helping, mom.
Child #1: I can almost do it.
Child #2: You can not. Nobody can.
Me: Seriously, guys. We're eating dinner.
[glancing around to see all four men trying to lick their armpits]
I'm not quite sure how it all ended, but I'm pretty certain I remember slowly and ever-so-dramatically burying my head into my arms as they rest upon the table.
Monday, August 13, 2012
The Way To A Girl's Heart...
Hanging with my nieces/nephews is pretty close to being a mom on my "list-of-awesome-things-I-get-to-do". They're all sorta the bomb. See why in this conversation I had with my ever-so-spunky 4 year old niece.
Me: I love you.
Niece: I love you, too.
Me: That's not what you told me yesterday!
Niece: What!?!
Me: You said you didn't like me yesterday.
Niece: Oh. I DO like you.
Me: (perfectly flat-toned) Is it because I just gave you some chocolate?
Niece: (not even flinching) Uh-huh.
Me: Well, you should like me ALL the time.
Niece: Well, YOU should give me CHOCOLATE all the time.
Me: {sigh}
Me: I love you.
Niece: I love you, too.
Me: That's not what you told me yesterday!
Niece: What!?!
Me: You said you didn't like me yesterday.
Niece: Oh. I DO like you.
Me: (perfectly flat-toned) Is it because I just gave you some chocolate?
Niece: (not even flinching) Uh-huh.
Me: Well, you should like me ALL the time.
Niece: Well, YOU should give me CHOCOLATE all the time.
Me: {sigh}
Monday, June 18, 2012
Haiti...Hades...
Child #1 and I were holding a discussion about good choices and why we should always make them (a topic we discuss often and quite openly). He knows that if he makes good choices, he'll more than likely go to heaven...
Child #1: I guess it's easier to make good choices, huh, mom?
Me: Yup. Bad choices lead to bad consequences. Good choices, good consequences.
[He's heard that once or twice before, for SURE!]
Child #1: I guess it's better than going to Haiti.
Me: [utterly confused!] What!?!
Child #1: Well, that's where all the bad people are, isn't it?
Me: Um....no. There are LOTS of good people in Haiti. Lots of them.
Child #1: That's not what I heard!
Me: [more utterly confused] What are you talking about?
Child #1: In Greek mythology they talk about Haiti being the underworld and all the bad people get sent there.
Me: Um...no. That's Hades.
Child #1: Oh. Oh, yeah. Then what's Haiti?
Me: A country.
Child #1: Oh.
Child #1: I guess it's easier to make good choices, huh, mom?
Me: Yup. Bad choices lead to bad consequences. Good choices, good consequences.
[He's heard that once or twice before, for SURE!]
Child #1: I guess it's better than going to Haiti.
Me: [utterly confused!] What!?!
Child #1: Well, that's where all the bad people are, isn't it?
Me: Um....no. There are LOTS of good people in Haiti. Lots of them.
Child #1: That's not what I heard!
Me: [more utterly confused] What are you talking about?
Child #1: In Greek mythology they talk about Haiti being the underworld and all the bad people get sent there.
Me: Um...no. That's Hades.
Child #1: Oh. Oh, yeah. Then what's Haiti?
Me: A country.
Child #1: Oh.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Juvenile Delinquent
After dropping of our son to a Young Men's activity, I received the following text.
"Goin 2 jail. see ya in the long run. lol"
My answer:
"Just so you know, Im not bailing you out...EVER! Have fun!"
"Goin 2 jail. see ya in the long run. lol"
My answer:
"Just so you know, Im not bailing you out...EVER! Have fun!"
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Squirrels...Again?
It happened again...
(for the original sleep-talking story, CLICK HERE)
Child #1 was nearly sound, sound asleep (as were WE for that matter) when he began hallucinating and hearing things. This time, it sounded like this:
Child #1: MOM! DAD! It's happening again!
Dad: What, son?
Child #1: I can hear it. It's singing this time!
Dad: What's singing?
Child #1: I hear music. It won't stop. I can hear music downstairs and footsteps.
Me: Does it sound British?
Child #1: Mom, really. Stop with the squirrel thing. This is real.
[Brief moment as we try to hear music as we listen to the complete and utter silence in the house.]
Me: Dear, I don't hear music.
Child #1: That's because it's coming from DOWNSTAIRS!
Me: 'kay, dear. I'm coming.
[Reluctantly pull myself out of bed and walk, or rather fumble, lethargically down the stairs as I'm secretly having visions of "Alvin and the Squirrels" (or whatever they are) singing inside my son's walls with a British accent.]
Child #1: Can you hear it now?
Me: Uh...no.
Child #1: I'm certain it's the All American Rejects. They're singing their songs. I can hear them.
Me: Good for you, dear.
Child #1: Are you mocking me?
Me: Never.
(for the original sleep-talking story, CLICK HERE)
Child #1 was nearly sound, sound asleep (as were WE for that matter) when he began hallucinating and hearing things. This time, it sounded like this:
Child #1: MOM! DAD! It's happening again!
Dad: What, son?
Child #1: I can hear it. It's singing this time!
Dad: What's singing?
Child #1: I hear music. It won't stop. I can hear music downstairs and footsteps.
Me: Does it sound British?
Child #1: Mom, really. Stop with the squirrel thing. This is real.
[Brief moment as we try to hear music as we listen to the complete and utter silence in the house.]
Me: Dear, I don't hear music.
Child #1: That's because it's coming from DOWNSTAIRS!
Me: 'kay, dear. I'm coming.
[Reluctantly pull myself out of bed and walk, or rather fumble, lethargically down the stairs as I'm secretly having visions of "Alvin and the Squirrels" (or whatever they are) singing inside my son's walls with a British accent.]
Child #1: Can you hear it now?
Me: Uh...no.
Child #1: I'm certain it's the All American Rejects. They're singing their songs. I can hear them.
Me: Good for you, dear.
Child #1: Are you mocking me?
Me: Never.
What Else Can Ya Say???
Child #3: Mom.
Me: Yup?
Child #3: The next time I meet a Tyrannosaurus wearing roller skates and a jet pack, I'm going to name him Megatron!
Me: You do that, son.
Child #3: 'kay.
Me: Yup?
Child #3: The next time I meet a Tyrannosaurus wearing roller skates and a jet pack, I'm going to name him Megatron!
Me: You do that, son.
Child #3: 'kay.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk, Nyuk!!!!
He was telling me how he'd fend off the bad guys.
Somehow, I don't think this would work...
(Um, yes.
He really DID just do that.
On camera.
For reals.)
Husband's Beard
We have a bit of trauma at our house right now.
You see, after 15 years of a nicely groomed goatee/mustache thing, Husband has decided to shave his beard once and for all.
I don't mind it one bit. It allows me to see more of his handsome mug. He's kind of a really handsome sort of guy anyway. The kids, on the other hand, not so much a fan of the idea.
Discussion tonight during dinner:
Child #3 (who happens to be a very, very BIG daddy's boy): Dad, I think you should grow your beard back.
Husband: I don't want to grow it back.
Child #3: So? Grow it back anyway.
Husband: Why should I grow it back?
Child #3: Because then it can get really long and hairy and when you talk it can sound like "bom bom, bom bom bom" and all the hair can form a giant, fluffy ball around your mouth and we can all laugh really hard.
Husband: Um. No.
You see, after 15 years of a nicely groomed goatee/mustache thing, Husband has decided to shave his beard once and for all.
I don't mind it one bit. It allows me to see more of his handsome mug. He's kind of a really handsome sort of guy anyway. The kids, on the other hand, not so much a fan of the idea.
Discussion tonight during dinner:
Child #3 (who happens to be a very, very BIG daddy's boy): Dad, I think you should grow your beard back.
Husband: I don't want to grow it back.
Child #3: So? Grow it back anyway.
Husband: Why should I grow it back?
Child #3: Because then it can get really long and hairy and when you talk it can sound like "bom bom, bom bom bom" and all the hair can form a giant, fluffy ball around your mouth and we can all laugh really hard.
Husband: Um. No.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
British Squirrels
WARNING: The following post is actually a flashback into last summer...but it's so funny, we still laugh about it frequently.
Child #1 is a sleepwalker. Not so much anymore, but last summer was quite humorous.
He was notorious for going to bed at 10:30, falling NEARLY to sleep, then in a dazed stupor, come into our bedroom panicking about the fact that he couldn't sleep and the world must be coming to an end (or something like that).
On this certain night, or rather, these certain nights, he had this problem.
Child #1: I can't...I can't....I can't sleep and I can't stand it. I've just had it. I've been down there forever and I just can't...my life isn't...I just can't handle this anymore! (He had actually been in bed for approximately 20 minutes.)
Me: What's wrong this time, son?
Child #1: You've gotta check things out. There's something bad downstairs. It's a big problem. You've gotta come and see.
Me: (waking up the hubs) Your turn, honey.
They go down together. Thirty seconds later, hubs comes up laughing his guts out.
Me: What in the world?...
Husband: He's convinced there's a squirrel living in his walls.
Me: [snort]
NEXT NIGHT
Child #1: I can't...I can't....I can't sleep and I can't stand it. I've just had it. I've been down there forever and I just can't...my life isn't...I just can't handle this anymore! (He had actually been in bed for approximately 20 minutes.)
Me: What's wrong this time, son?
Child #1: You've gotta check things out. There's something bad downstairs. It's a big problem. You've gotta come and see. This time it's really scary.
Me: Just tell me about it.
Child #1: There's something down there talking...I don't even want to tell you, it's SOOO bad!
Me: What, dear.
Child #1: It's talking....British. It has a British accent.
Me: (trying hard not to laugh, but failing miserably) Something's speaking with a British accent?
Child #1: YES! I don't know what it is. It's a deep voice. Pretty sure it's a man.
Me or Husband (I don't quite remember): Where is it coming from?
Child #1: Outside my window. Or maybe even from inside the walls. It's really close.
Husband: Oh, it's probably just that squirrel.They're quite common around here.
Me: [snort]
Child #1: Be serious. British squirrels don't live around here. They're from France!
Me: [snort again topped with crazy, hysterical laughter]
Husband: Let's go downstairs and tell your little squirrel friend to be quiet.
Child #1: 'kay.
Me: G'night son.
Child #1 is a sleepwalker. Not so much anymore, but last summer was quite humorous.
He was notorious for going to bed at 10:30, falling NEARLY to sleep, then in a dazed stupor, come into our bedroom panicking about the fact that he couldn't sleep and the world must be coming to an end (or something like that).
On this certain night, or rather, these certain nights, he had this problem.
Child #1: I can't...I can't....I can't sleep and I can't stand it. I've just had it. I've been down there forever and I just can't...my life isn't...I just can't handle this anymore! (He had actually been in bed for approximately 20 minutes.)
Me: What's wrong this time, son?
Child #1: You've gotta check things out. There's something bad downstairs. It's a big problem. You've gotta come and see.
Me: (waking up the hubs) Your turn, honey.
They go down together. Thirty seconds later, hubs comes up laughing his guts out.
Me: What in the world?...
Husband: He's convinced there's a squirrel living in his walls.
Me: [snort]
NEXT NIGHT
Child #1: I can't...I can't....I can't sleep and I can't stand it. I've just had it. I've been down there forever and I just can't...my life isn't...I just can't handle this anymore! (He had actually been in bed for approximately 20 minutes.)
Me: What's wrong this time, son?
Child #1: You've gotta check things out. There's something bad downstairs. It's a big problem. You've gotta come and see. This time it's really scary.
Me: Just tell me about it.
Child #1: There's something down there talking...I don't even want to tell you, it's SOOO bad!
Me: What, dear.
Child #1: It's talking....British. It has a British accent.
Me: (trying hard not to laugh, but failing miserably) Something's speaking with a British accent?
Child #1: YES! I don't know what it is. It's a deep voice. Pretty sure it's a man.
Me or Husband (I don't quite remember): Where is it coming from?
Child #1: Outside my window. Or maybe even from inside the walls. It's really close.
Husband: Oh, it's probably just that squirrel.They're quite common around here.
Me: [snort]
Child #1: Be serious. British squirrels don't live around here. They're from France!
Me: [snort again topped with crazy, hysterical laughter]
Husband: Let's go downstairs and tell your little squirrel friend to be quiet.
Child #1: 'kay.
Me: G'night son.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
A Typical Sunday Dinner
I wanted to let you in on some excerpts to one of our "nicer" Sunday dinner conversations...Hope you enjoy it (because I generally end up with my head on the table and my arms over my head).
Child #3: For my birthday, I want to have a British Party...then I can invite everyone to my "birthday potty".
Child #1: The British are the ones from France.
Me: Um...England, maybe.
Husband: Son, we don't wear socks on our hands at the dinner table.
Child #3: Chicken....Baahhhh-Haaaaahhhh!
Child #1: We talked about choosing good music at church today. Our teacher said there are appropriate times for certain music, like, it would be awkward if you changed the radio station in the middle of the basketball game and all of the sudden the song went from chanting "We Will, We Will" to [click] "Love One Another".
Me: Why don't I keep a notebook and pencil with me at all times...
Child #2: Mom, in the Son of Neptune there was a sign that said "Moose Pass"
Me: Oh.
Child #2: And then there was a sign that said "Moose Pass Gas"
Me: [Roll eyes]
Husband: Other son, get your socks OFF your hands, too!!!
Child #2: You have giGANtic buck teeth! Mwahahaha...
Child #1: No I don't!
Child #2: It looks like you do when you look through your glass like a telescope.
Me: So what was your favorite part of the day today?
Child #3: What's for dessert?
Child #1: [singing hard rock] "I feel like, I feel like..."
Child #2: [singing to aggravate his brother] "...a Child of God"
Me: [exasperated] WHY are all our dinners like this!?!
Husband: So you have something to blog about...
Child #3: For my birthday, I want to have a British Party...then I can invite everyone to my "birthday potty".
Child #1: The British are the ones from France.
Me: Um...England, maybe.
Husband: Son, we don't wear socks on our hands at the dinner table.
Child #3: Chicken....Baahhhh-Haaaaahhhh!
Child #1: We talked about choosing good music at church today. Our teacher said there are appropriate times for certain music, like, it would be awkward if you changed the radio station in the middle of the basketball game and all of the sudden the song went from chanting "We Will, We Will" to [click] "Love One Another".
Me: Why don't I keep a notebook and pencil with me at all times...
Child #2: Mom, in the Son of Neptune there was a sign that said "Moose Pass"
Me: Oh.
Child #2: And then there was a sign that said "Moose Pass Gas"
Me: [Roll eyes]
Husband: Other son, get your socks OFF your hands, too!!!
Child #2: You have giGANtic buck teeth! Mwahahaha...
Child #1: No I don't!
Child #2: It looks like you do when you look through your glass like a telescope.
Me: So what was your favorite part of the day today?
Child #3: What's for dessert?
Child #1: [singing hard rock] "I feel like, I feel like..."
Child #2: [singing to aggravate his brother] "...a Child of God"
Me: [exasperated] WHY are all our dinners like this!?!
Husband: So you have something to blog about...
Yankees
Watching "Gone With The Wind" (hate it, by the way...)
Child #3: Why are they wanting to fight for the Yankees?
Me: Because they are trying to fight for what they believe.
Child #3: So why the Yankees?
Me: They had to choose a side.
Child #3: But WHY the Yankees? Don't they know that they're a crummy team? They should've voted for the Cubs or a better baseball team.
[sigh]
Child #3: Why are they wanting to fight for the Yankees?
Me: Because they are trying to fight for what they believe.
Child #3: So why the Yankees?
Me: They had to choose a side.
Child #3: But WHY the Yankees? Don't they know that they're a crummy team? They should've voted for the Cubs or a better baseball team.
[sigh]
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Ogres
Child #3: Mom. I'm scared.
Me: Oh? What are you afraid of?
Child #3: The movie.
Me: Why?
Child #3: It has a great, big ogre and you KNOW I'm afraid of ogres.
Me: They're pretend, dear.
Child #3: Yeah, but this one has been asleep for 10 years...
Me: Oh?
Child #3: ...and has been holding in all his gas!...
Me: [flat toned and somewhat afraid of what's coming next] Oh.
Child #3: ...and when he wakes up, he's gonna let it ALL out!
[sigh]
Me: Oh? What are you afraid of?
Child #3: The movie.
Me: Why?
Child #3: It has a great, big ogre and you KNOW I'm afraid of ogres.
Me: They're pretend, dear.
Child #3: Yeah, but this one has been asleep for 10 years...
Me: Oh?
Child #3: ...and has been holding in all his gas!...
Me: [flat toned and somewhat afraid of what's coming next] Oh.
Child #3: ...and when he wakes up, he's gonna let it ALL out!
[sigh]
Crazy Horse
Living in a small town sure has it's advantages...and it's quirkiness.
Such as:
No kidding.
Disclaimer: Around here, it's not quite as common to see a loose horse as it is to watch as a herd of cows create massive rush-hour traffic down main street. That's really fun. We call it our semi-annual "parade".
But, seriously.
Someone's crazy horse got lose today and decided to take me on. It came barreling out of the field and then halted just steps in front of my truck. The poor horse looked as beat up as my truck. (It's obviously seen better days.) His crazy-wild eyes and nappily braided tail beckoned a challenge between itself and my 20-year-old barely-running, rusted Ford F150.
Either that or it wanted to eat me up. Horses are hard to read that way...
My initial thought was "Aha! Go ahead. Plow into me! Take on this old truck! I hate this old beater anyway, with it's door you can only open from the outside and the radio that comes on when you don't want it to and the bottom ribcage (or whatever that is) that is falling to pieces.. ." I thought many other bad things about my truck...but then came back to the realization that the horse was still staring at me and that felt awkward.
So, I looked up, ready to meet it's challenge...but then it ran away. Just as fast as it came.
Whoa.
It was probably ok. I wasn't really in the mood to have the horse attack me anyway nor did I actually have my seat belt on at the moment (which would've been bad had it tried to tip over "old-beater" or something).
BUT, it makes a good story AND it really, really happened.
No kidding.
P.S. Should I be mortally offended that the horse stared at my mug for a such a long time and then high-tailed it and ran away as fast as it could? I mean, I know I hadn't showered or brushed my hair or even changed out of my pajamas or anything, but....just sayin'...
Such as:
- Advantage: everyone knows each other by name, face and the car they drive
- Quirk: you could be driving down the road when suddenly a CRAZY HORSE comes galloping out unannounced right in front of you
No kidding.
Disclaimer: Around here, it's not quite as common to see a loose horse as it is to watch as a herd of cows create massive rush-hour traffic down main street. That's really fun. We call it our semi-annual "parade".
But, seriously.
Someone's crazy horse got lose today and decided to take me on. It came barreling out of the field and then halted just steps in front of my truck. The poor horse looked as beat up as my truck. (It's obviously seen better days.) His crazy-wild eyes and nappily braided tail beckoned a challenge between itself and my 20-year-old barely-running, rusted Ford F150.
Either that or it wanted to eat me up. Horses are hard to read that way...
My initial thought was "Aha! Go ahead. Plow into me! Take on this old truck! I hate this old beater anyway, with it's door you can only open from the outside and the radio that comes on when you don't want it to and the bottom ribcage (or whatever that is) that is falling to pieces.. ." I thought many other bad things about my truck...but then came back to the realization that the horse was still staring at me and that felt awkward.
So, I looked up, ready to meet it's challenge...but then it ran away. Just as fast as it came.
Whoa.
It was probably ok. I wasn't really in the mood to have the horse attack me anyway nor did I actually have my seat belt on at the moment (which would've been bad had it tried to tip over "old-beater" or something).
BUT, it makes a good story AND it really, really happened.
No kidding.
P.S. Should I be mortally offended that the horse stared at my mug for a such a long time and then high-tailed it and ran away as fast as it could? I mean, I know I hadn't showered or brushed my hair or even changed out of my pajamas or anything, but....just sayin'...
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Sunday Funny
"Mom, sacrament meeting would be so much cooler if they'd just serve stuff like hamburgers or hot dogs or pizza once in a while."
-Son of a friend sitting in back of me
-Son of a friend sitting in back of me
Win, Lose AND Draw
Q- If you could draw yourself as anything, what would it be?
Child #3: Roadkill.
All: [You know that stare you do with the mouth gaped wide open with no words coming out? That's what we were doing.]
Child #2: A mortally wounded knight.
All: [See previous action.]
Child #1: A rockstar with a guitar.
All: [Relief that at least ONE of our children thinks normally.]
Husband: A dragon.
All: [Understanding now where Children #3 and #2 come get it from.]
Me: Pretty much just me with some nicely toned, defined muscles.
Child #3: You want muscles?
Me: Yup. Just some nice, gentle muscles like a lady should have.
Child #2: Oh. So you wanna look like Hulk? 'Cause that's exactly what YOU'D look like...
[Sigh]
Child #3: Roadkill.
All: [You know that stare you do with the mouth gaped wide open with no words coming out? That's what we were doing.]
Child #2: A mortally wounded knight.
All: [See previous action.]
Child #1: A rockstar with a guitar.
All: [Relief that at least ONE of our children thinks normally.]
Husband: A dragon.
All: [Understanding now where Children #3 and #2 come get it from.]
Me: Pretty much just me with some nicely toned, defined muscles.
Child #3: You want muscles?
Me: Yup. Just some nice, gentle muscles like a lady should have.
Child #2: Oh. So you wanna look like Hulk? 'Cause that's exactly what YOU'D look like...
[Sigh]
Brotherly Advice
"Brother: This is a fact. When you get to 5th grade, all the girls think about is the cha-cha slide. And when you're practicing the macarena for the parents, watch out! You're always shaking your bum."
-Child #2
-Child #2
The Field Trip
Child #3, who is just 2 weeks and 1 day from turning 9, has a very big day today: it's the 3rd grade field trip to not one but TWO exciting places: the UVU Theater, where he'll watch part of a very nice play, AND the Living Aquarium, where he'd get to, ya know, watch fish swim around in unusually enclosed yet oddly see-through spaces.
As he was heading out the door this morning, I did my motherly duty to hand him his sack lunch (complete with jell-o and a double-decker-fluffer-nutter sandwich, might I proudly add) and then reminded him to be on his best behavior and use his very best manners.
I thought for a very, VERY brief second before I enthusiastically corrected myself. "No. Be on unusually GREAT behavior and use even BETTER than your best manners."
Yup. I know him.
He looked up at me, grinned his goofy grin and before running to get on his bike, slyly said, "Do I have to say excuse me if I burp at a fish!?!?"
[Sigh]
As he was heading out the door this morning, I did my motherly duty to hand him his sack lunch (complete with jell-o and a double-decker-fluffer-nutter sandwich, might I proudly add) and then reminded him to be on his best behavior and use his very best manners.
I thought for a very, VERY brief second before I enthusiastically corrected myself. "No. Be on unusually GREAT behavior and use even BETTER than your best manners."
Yup. I know him.
He looked up at me, grinned his goofy grin and before running to get on his bike, slyly said, "Do I have to say excuse me if I burp at a fish!?!?"
[Sigh]
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