Today was the much dreaded, I mean anticipated, Fun Run at school. I've heard about this event, and when I saw it looming ahead on the calendar, I tried to figure out a way to avoid it like the plague. Lucky for me, N was sick for half the week last week, so his head wasn't full of all of the propaganda of cool prizes and fun and running. I'm not even sure how the last two items even go together. I've never had fun running, let me just get that out in the open right now.
B, however, has an easily molded mind, and went to his dad's shrieking about the great prizes he could get if they just pledged $2/lap! One of my friends said that she was just going to go out and buy all of the prizes next time, and just give them to her kids instead of doing the fundraiser. I think she might be onto something. Two days before "crunch time," I called my family, and they came through for the boys, and made sure they'd get some crap, I mean really AWESOME prizes.
(Still waiting on the awesome.)
I volunteered to pass out water to the runners as they did their due diligence, 26-36 laps around the gym, but when I got there, the plan had changed. Instead, everyone was given a sharpie, and we literally tagged each kid's back as they ran past. The fifth graders were the first group, and it was total chaos. N, just coming off being sick, was supposed to take it easy...and by easy, I did NOT mean 46 laps. Almost every kid ran at least 36 laps; some ran 60-70. I left after that one, promising to return for the first graders. I figured that would be even more crazy, but they said, "No...we'll work the kinks out between now and then."
Optimistic fools.
I made sure to be there for the first graders, primarily because I knew B would want to participate, and with his crazy asthma, I wanted his inhaler to be in my pocket, ready to go. His dad & stepmom told him to run 2 laps, and that was it. They emailed his teacher, telling her the same thing, but since she wasn't in there...anyway, I was. And I wasn't going to make him sit out while the rest of his friends ran, so I told him he had to check in with me on every single lap. If we needed the inhaler, it was there, and he could always walk. Right?
That fool ran 55 laps.
After school, I was thinking to myself that they would be so exhausted that it would be a nice, quiet afternoon. And then I remembered I was an idiot. The roofers were still pounding away, so B and I went out to get the mail. On the out, this conversation transpired:
B: Mom, how did the guys get up on the roof?
Me: I'm not sure.
B (touching the rope): Did they use this rope?
Me: DON'T TOUCH THE ROPE! I don't know. It would be hard to get on the roof using just a rope.
B: They might've used the rope...
Me: I don't think so. Look, there's a ladder. I bet that's how they got up there.
B: I bet they all have diseases...that's probably why they're on the roof. They only let people work on roofs if they have diseases.
For once in my life, I'm speechless...and while he's yelling this, so he can be heard over the hammering and pounding, I realize the hammering and pounding has stopped. But he hasn't stopped yelling about how all the men currently on our roof probably have diseases. Obviously, that's why they're up there.
Now, I'm dying laughing, and B starts panicking, begging me not to tell his brother.
I hauled butt up the stairs, and locked the door, still laughing. Don't worry, he was with me, begging me not to tell N, who instantly wanted to know what was so funny. I said I'd tell him later, but later, his dad came by to drop off some homework he'd left over there, and I told him the story. He was kind of mad, which is ridiculous, and they had a talk:
Dad: B, what was up with the guys on the roof?
B: Oh, they all had diseases. That's why they work on roofs.
Dad: Where did you get that idea?
B: Duh. From the moon.
That is SO my kid. I use that one all the time! It was all I could do to not spit water all over myself. Instead, I just choked on it. I'm classy like that.
Meanwhile, N's working on this homework assignment where he has to connect parts of this book he's reading to things in his life or the lives of others he knows. Or something. Fifth grade is weird. I'm trying to help him come up with ideas on his own, and here's what I get for my efforts:
Me: So, this takes place in the mountains in Canada?
N: Yeah...
Me: It's a shame you've never been to...
N: I've been to the mountains in Colorado!
Me: There you go!
N: And they play hockey, and that reminds me of "The Mighty Ducks!"
Me: Take the fall, act hurt, get indignant?
N: Yeah, okay...
Me: So, how do they get back and forth?
N: On a plane...
Me: Do you know anyone who flies on planes a lot?
N: My balls!!!
Okay then, I give up. And he only has three "connectors" for his homework assignment. "My balls" was changed to his grandmother...which is just slightly a little more than hilarious.
We've never been really big on "private parts" talk or "potty talk" in my house. It's always been a rule, but they both really seem to push the envelope lately, especially when it comes to their junk. Thankfully, the days of B dancing around the bathroom naked, singing, "My junk! My junk! My junk, my junk, my junk!" seem to have come to an end, but every once in a while, he busts out with a little move or song that makes it really hard to pretend it's business as usual.
Tonight, I sent him to brush his teeth, and as he's brushing, he's singing "I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it..." and as he's singing around his toothbrush in his mouth, he's dancing around like one of the Village People. I swear. I peeked around the corner just to see what he was doing, and for his grand finale, he dropped down into a crouch, and pelvic thrusted all the way up, singing, "I'm sexy and I know it!"
N and I were collapsed in the hallway, with tears streaming down our faces, and he was totally oblivious.
We got a quick visit from Baby E tonight, and that was fun. He was grabbing faces and hair and I kept calling him Helen Keller, which would make him gurgle and shriek. I was bouncing him on my knee, and B got too close, so E kicked him...you guessed it! In the balls.
This is my life. I feel like I've said that a lot lately.
This is my life. Don't be jealous...except for sometimes, maybe you should be.
Aubs
Sidebar: This falls into the category of "yesterday's hell" but while we were at Target, and in the checkout line, this woman in front of me was juggling 4 kids and 2 baskets full of stuff. I looked at her in awe, as she held an older baby/toddler (maybe) in one hand and negotiated everything else with the other... AND that was when B decided to yell (since he only has one volume)
B: MOM, CAN WE HAVE A BABY BROTHER?! PLEASE?!
N: No, B, we can't...remember, Pampaw says she's closed for business. Whatever that means.
Lady in front of us: Do you want one of these?
Me: Oh, you're sweet, but no thanks. I maxed out at one, but somehow this one ended up on my doorstep, and I couldn't find a return address...
The lady behind me gasped, and the cashier turned bright red as she tried not to laugh. I told her it was okay, and she let loose with the biggest laugh I'd ever heard. And then, I promptly took my kids home, made them dinner, and put them to bed. The end.
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