Well, it’s the end of the day, and I can safely say that we have been spared of any April Fool’s pranks. The Younger Boy has been talking about pranking us for months, and I was starting to wonder if he was really going to pull something. However, thanks to The Husband, I think Philip learned that pranks are no fun.
Yesterday afternoon I hear the following:
“Philip, you’re going to have to go to bed early tonight.” –Jeremy
“Why? We don’t have school.” –Philip Continue reading
Today’s Phil-isms were said when he was six-years-old.
The definition of hypocrisy…some kid was just making noise in the store, and Philip had the audacity to say, “Where’s the mute button on that kid?!?”
”Here comes Dad! Act normal.” –John Edward
“Ok…you got it!” Then he begins to yodel. Because apparently, that is normal for Philip.
“John, you’re such a J-R-K!” –Philip
“Philip!!! You didn’t even spell it right.” –Me
“Oh, sorry. J-E-R-K!”
“Correct. Now go sit in the corner! That was very ugly!”
I gotta have my priorities, right?
“Mom, I don’t sweat. I leak.”
“Mom, want to play a game? Let’s ask each other a bunch of questions about each other. I want to know more about you.” –Philip
“Well, how could I say no to that!!! Of course, you go first.”
“Do you think Little-Girl-In-His-Class-Who-Will-Remain-Anonymous-To-Spare-Him-Future-Embarrassment is cute?”
“Yes, she’s a cute little girl. Why do you like her?”
“Umm…because she’s cute. (Insert ‘duh mom’ eye roll) What’s your favorite color?” Apparently, he didn’t want to further discuss Cute Girl.
“Blue. What’s your favorite book?”
“The Magic Treehouse books. What was your favorite book when you were a little girl?”
“Hmmm…I had so many! I’ll go with Anne of Green Gables and the Nancy Drew books. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Mom! You know I have a bunch! Alvin and the Chipmunks, Sharkboy and Lavagirl, SpyKids, Charlotte’s Web, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...”
“Ok, sorry I asked. You can stop now.” <giggling>
“Who was your best friend when you were a little girl? Not high school, when you were little.”
“At school, it was a girl named Denise. In our neighborhood, it was Anna and Amanda. Who’s your best friend?”
“Grant! You should know that!” <laughing hysterically at my stupidity>
After a few moments of quiet thought…“I can’t think of any more right now. You can ask me more, though.”
“Ok, how do you feel about having a brother who’s special?”
With some of the things that The Younger Boy has told his teachers, I can just imagine what they think of us. No, really. We are normal! You believe me, don’t you? Well, don’t ya?!?
Earlier this week, Philip came home with a journal/sketch pad that was made in class. I flipped through it, admiring his art work, when something caught my eye. Apparently, the class had an assignment focusing on their dads. From what I understand, the kids had to write out something that their dad taught them and draw a corresponding picture. Continue reading
“What is wrong with these young people?!?”
I find myself saying this often lately, and every time I utter this phrase, I get depressed. Not because of the state of the world, but because when you start fussing about “kids these days”, you realize that you are no longer one of them. No worries. I’m not looking into nursing homes quite yet.
Completely irrelevant, but this totally cracked me up.
I do wonder about the younger generations, though. I’m generalizing, of course. But, for the most part, they seem to be spoiled and lazy. Hard work seems to be a foreign concept to most, and there is definitely a sense of entitlement with these people. Why they think they deserve everything to be given to them is a mystery to me. You want something? Work for it. Period. No one owes you anything.
Again–irrelevant, but funny.
Every once in a while, though, something wonderful happens, and my faith is renewed in the future. We had such an experience this past weekend. Continue reading
It was a rough night. It was one of those “I can’t take it anymore” nights. One of those “Jesus, help me” nights. One of those exhausting, emotional, overloading nights. Like I said, it was rough.
The Older Boy has a tendency to obsess over things. He’s always done this. Whether it was an upcoming trip to Grandma’s or a new toy, he can’t focus on anything else if he’s excited about something. It could drive anyone insane. For example, if we’re going bowling on Saturday, and I tell John Edward about it on Thursday, he will ask repeatedly when we’re going. He understands the days of the week, and I can even write it on a calendar as a visual for him, but it won’t matter. ”Mom, we go bowling?” will be his mantra until we are in the bowling alley parking lot. It can wear on your patience, trust me. We’ve learned over the years to not tell him if we’re doing something exciting until we are on our way there.
He also does this with new things. The other day, he bought a new Wii game with his own money. Before we even checked out, he was asking, “We go home now? I play ‘da Wii?” We heard this about 15 more times on the way home, which is only about 12 miles from the store.
So, I should have known better when we decided to get a new cat.
Actually, a new kitten.
Actually, 2 new kittens.
I’m an idiot.
Regardless, we now have 2 new family members in feline form. Of course, The Older Boy is obsessed with them. He is constantly wanting to hold them, play with them, follow them, take pictures of them, etc, etc. Those poor cats have no privacy when John Edward’s home. I understand that he’s excited about our new pets. They are super cute. They are hilarious. They are warm and cuddly. I get it.
But he goes too far. They are all he thinks about. It’s unhealthy.
I’m terrified he’ll end up like this: Continue reading
“Phil-ism”…something said or done by The Younger Boy that incites laughter, bewilderment, or joy.
Today’s Theme: What we have here is a failure to communicate.
Image from http://raisingchildren.net.au
“Aw, man! I love this song!” –Philip, age 6
“How do you even know that song? Continue reading
The Younger Boy and I have some of our best conversations in the car. We live in the country, so it takes us a little longer than others to get to our final destinations. Since his mind is always running, we talk about all sorts of things, ranging from superheroes to schoolwork to ice cream. But, more than anything, we talk about God. Here is a conversation from the other day:
“I’m so glad God made cars.” –Philip
“Well, God didn’t really make cars. People did. But,” –Me, until the kid interrupted
“But, God made people.”
“Right. He blessed us with intelligence to create technology.”
“And we use tech-whatever to make cool stuff.”
“Right.”
“But, sometimes bad people Continue reading
“Phil-ism”…something said or done by The Younger Boy that incites laughter, bewilderment, or joy.
We sometimes lovingly refer to Philip as “Captain Random.” The kid will say the weirdest things, out of nowhere. Today’s Phil-isms are perfect examples:
It’s been a while since I’ve last written, and I apologize to all of my millions of readers. (Ok, I apologize to all 3 of you…a girl can dream, right?) I have been incredibly busy with various volunteer projects for the past 2 weeks, but I am now able to return to my regular schedule. I figured I would return with a post on what I know best…child driven insanity.
Church with the kids is never fun. Never. Which is a pity, because I actually really enjoy Mass. I just enjoy it much more when the heathen children aren’t with me. That sounds horrible, right? Well, before you judge, join me as I recap last Sunday’s Mass. The following sequence of events is not a compilation of weeks of headaches. No. This is my experience with The Younger Boy for one Mass. One hour.
On this particular Sunday, we got to church early so that I could go to Confession. Unfortunately, when we got there, The Ninja-Priest-Friend wasn’t yet in the confessional, so I just sat in the pew with my family. I should have just started a line or sat in the back of church by myself, it would’ve saved me a lot of embarrassment. The minute the priest went into the confessional, The Younger Boy looked at me and said loudly, “Ok, Mom. He’s back there. You can go tell him how bad you are now.”
Thank God that looks don’t actually kill, because in that moment, I may have injured my precious son. The walk to the confessional has never been so long, Continue reading
