Crackpot Kids

My children cracked me up yesterday. And that’s so nice, considering Bruce is gone on a manly-man trip with all his biker buds from work to Myrtle Beach for Bike Week.

I’ll just bask in the sunshine of my children’s humor, and blog it so that when Bruce gets home and reads it, he’ll be so jealous that he missed it. Nah, I’ll never last that long. The very next time he calls I’ll spill all.

Spencer started it off shortly after lunch. He claimed he was still hungry. Well, I’m of the mind that you eat ‘til you’re full at meal time and then you eat again at the next meal time. I’m not a complete dictator… I let my kids have one healthy snack every day, between lunch and supper. I reminded Spencer of his need to wait until snack time, now that lunch time was passed. And he said it.

“Mom, when it’s snack time, can I have like three or four snacks? Because I’m really hungry and I think I’m going into hibernation.”

Cha-ching. My first laugh of the day.

A couple hours later, Allison walked up to me with a pouty look on her face. She wasn’t happy about something and I was about to discover what had gotten her in that state. She hiked up her nightgown (Yeah, it was after lunch. So what? Some days I’m still in my PJs after lunch, too. I know there are others out there like me. Forget that freaky Fly Lady and her suggestion to get dressed down to your shoes each morning. What. Ever.).

Back to Allison pulling her nightgown up. She flashed me a view of her panties. Only they weren’t panties. They were Spencer’s underwear. Well, I just spewed the laughter straight out. I shouldn’t have. She was disturbed by the fact that she was wearing boy’s underwear. Well, I didn’t put them on her. The child dresses herself, which makes it even funnier.

So I asked.

“Allison, why are you wearing Spencer’s underwear?”

And she answered. Vehemently.

“Well, I guess Spencer put his underwear in my panty drawer.”

And then she stomped her foot.

Well, that cracked me up more because I thought, "He put his drawers in her drawers. I just can't make this stuff up." But I got a grip and shrugged and said, “Go change them if it bothers you.”

It didn’t bother me. I wear her daddy’s boxers all the time.

Clay capped the day off nicely once he got home from school. I have no idea what movies some of his peers are watching, but nothing he said rang any bells with me from movies I’ve let him watch.

He was gyrating around, doing some kind of fight scene that only a mutant Ninja could love. And then he said, “I’ll fight for our garbledeegook.”

Huh? I could have sworn he said, “I’ll fight for our clothes.”

I asked. “What did you say, Clay?”

“I’ll fight for our claws,” he replied.

Okay, that makes more sense. But not really. One more time, I had to ask, “What are you saying?”

And he said, “I don’t know. I think it’s some kind of Iraqi word.”

Iraqi word? How would he know any Iraqi words?

Finally, I realized he was trying to say, “I’ll fight for our cause.” So I explained the whole thing to him.

But he wasn’t finished tickling my funny bone.

His make-believe fight scene continued. And the next thing I heard did me in completely.

“Freeze, you gum bags.”

I didn’t tell him about scum bags. I was laughing too hard.

But I better explain it soon before he tries that phrase out on the school bus or something. That just begs for exploitation by the neighborhood bully.