Out of the Mouth of Babes:
And by babes, I mean the small versions of Al Bundy that run through my house with their hands down their pants and use farting as their second language. So these two cuties, and really they are cute, have been slaying me recently with their pearls of wisdom of which I will now share with you.
As I was opening the windows in the house to take advantage of the beautiful weather the three year old with that curious look, and his beautiful blue eyes beaming at me muttered “Mom, why you doing that?” I responded, “To get some fresh air”, he didn’t miss a beat and shot back like a grumpy old man, “Go outside”.
I put a four-week ban on all Fast Food, so when we recently passed a McDonalds and didn’t stop my three year old flipped out. Which says a lot about me as a parent and the fact that I got my son so addicted to french fries he behaves like a meth head coming down if he doesn’t get his fix, but I digress. So his carrying on just kept carrying on, my seven year old was so over it and was basically annoyed by the sound of his brothers voice, so he turned to him, rolled his eyes and dead panned “Stop being so dramatic”. Classic.
A few nights ago after cuddling for about a half hour, my seven year old gets off the couch, then stopped, and innocently said “wait a second”, backed up, and sat back down. I thought we were going to have another cuddle session when he rips a killer farts, grins, said “that’s all I got”, then he walked away calmly to go watch Bambi in the other room. But, considering how that mom faired in that movie, I’ll stick with the stinky fart.
I hate food shopping, and with the kids well, let’s just say I rather have a tooth pulled. I just wanted to run in and out, so I crossed my fingers, stuck the three year old in the cart, and sped through the store. At the produce section a sweet little old granny comes up and was admiring my son. I mean, who wouldn’t he’s cute as a button, has sparkling blue eyes and seems very approachable however, she smiles at him and before she can say a thing– he shouts at the top of his lungs: “GO HOME”. I’m not sure, but I believe her dentures fell out, I mean, her mouth stayed wide open for like 20 seconds, and I don’t believe I saw any teeth. I apologized and booked like Flo Jo to the checkout stand.
As I was blow drying my hair, I heard some mumbling in my sons’ room, since he’s three and can’t be trusted, I shut off the dryer to hear what he’s saying, “JESUS Christ! JEEESUSSS CHRIST!” Perplexed, I sneak a peek in his room and there he is standing by himself looking in the mirror, perhaps he found God? “MOMMMY, GET ME OUT OF HERE, OPEN THE DOOR”, is what I hear every day after my three-year wakes up. He acts as if he’s in solitary confinement for a crime he didn’t commit. Now here’s the kicker, most mornings at around 5 a.m. he climbs out of bed, opens his door and crawls into our bed. Not sure why he can’t handle that at 2:00 p.m. Maybe he’s still stoned from his Goldfish intake? Maybe yellow dye #5 has damaged his brain? Just can’t figure out why he doesn’t trust himself to scale the prison walls – perhaps he’s not sure when he’s gonna come down from his high?
On a visit to the Central Park Zoo with my entire family – Aunts, Uncles, Cousins…you know the drill, any way, my nine year old nephew, who is at most times the smartest person in the room, skeptically asked his adult counterparts if we knew where we were going, can’t say that I blame him, we have been known to get lost while running 10k’s wherein we added about three unnecessary miles to our route, but this time we all felt confident enough to say yep, we knew where we were going. I jokingly replied, “Don’t worry I’ve got a GPS in my nose”. To which he sized me up, smirked and then kindly snarked “So does my father, but he can’t find his way through our house”.
As my nephew was opening his birthday gifts (mind you the same wise ass as above), he got so excited when he unwrapped a new microscope, when I say ecstatic, I mean ecstatic. He hooted, hollered and totally did a Jersey Shore fist pump, when he came down from his high, he said as calm as ever “This is even better than the crappy one I have”. I peed my pants, literally peed.
And the best of the week: The boys were wrestling, tossing each other like a salad, when Richie, the seven year old got a bit more banged up then he wanted from the Sumo Wrestler that is his three-year old brother, and started to cry. The little one goes up to him and says, “It’s okay Richie. I’m your best friend.” Guess who started crying?? Now, really kids do say and do the darndest things and I’m lucky enough to have such wonderful ones in my life.
