1) to fly
2) to eat cake
3) and to get a job.

Really, what else is there?

***
KID: Mom, how come we talked about Jesus at pre-school, but we don’t talk about him at school?” 
ME: Because of the Constitution.

***
KID: Why do I have to sit in a booster seat?
ME:  Minn. Stat. Sect. 169.685, subd.5(a) (2009) - you have to sit in one until you’re 8 years old or 4′9″ tall.
KID: None of my friends sit in a booster seat.
ME:  I have read the whole statute; it does not have a “but my friends aren’t doing it” defense.

***
KID: Can girls marry other girls, and boys marry other boys?
ME: In Iowa.

I’m still not sure if it justifies the six figure debt, but it is a nice perk.  Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments.

Tune in Monday for some exciting news and the most FABULOUS place on the internet you haven’t found yet.  Really, you can hardly wait, right?  (Reminds me of that joke Ellen makes about the news teasers, about halfway through this funny clip.)

Kidspeak 1
Me to Jon, Age 4, fka “Kong“: You sure are grouchy today.  Why are you so grouchy?

Jon:  I can’t help it.  That’s just the way God made me.

Kidspeak 2
While checking out a wedding picture of me and Hubs, the same observant child noted that:  “Daddy looks the same, but Mommy looks different.”  I inquired, “how so?”

Apparently, in the photo “Mommy’s face is oval.”  But now, “it’s more round shaped.”  I’m so glad he’s learned his shapes so well.

Yesterday, from minivan rear:

7 yob: Hey mom?

Me: Yeah bud?

7 yob:  Do you think one of the reasons a woman has never been the president is because women are mommies, so they just don’t have enough time to be president?

Me: Well … I guess that’s part of the reason, but that’s changing.  A lot of men, like dad, do a lot of the parenting, so women should have more time to run for president in the future.

7 yob: Yeah, but men can’t get pregnant.

I just let it drop there. I didn’t have time for this debate in the car while shuttling them home from school  for a quick dinner before we rushed back out to gymnastics.

5: Oh, 6.9, don’t worry. Mom’s harmless.

Yep, Mom’s harmless.

I am in way over my head here.

He snorted out a giggle. “Mom, who’s Jennifer WEEEEE ner? What’s that book about?”

On our big Fourth Weekend trip to Target last week, I decided to swing through and grab a book to read on vacation. Committed to checking out library books this summer, I had been patiently waiting in my library’s line for Weiner’s latest. But it is a vacation … I figured I could break my library rule for vacation. I tossed it in the cart.

“Actually,” I replied, “I have it on pretty good authority it’s pronounced Jennifer WY-ner.”

“It looks like Weeeener,” he said again, undaunted, and clearly amused.

“Jennifer Wee-ner,” said 5, mimicking her brother’s pronunciation and smiling up at me as she leaned back, precariously swinging off the end of the cart by one arm.

“Be careful!” I snapped sharply, “You’re going to fall off of there. And, enough. It’s WYner. Let’s go find the watermelon.”

“WEE-NER, WEE-NER WEE-NER” chanted Kong. I zoomed away from the books, toward the grocery aisles, trying to divert their attention without appearing to be trying to divert their attention.

“What should we get to eat at the cabin?” I asked.

“I know … how about Weee nerrrs?” 6 offered and laughed proudly at his own joke.

“Jennifer WEEE ners?” 5 added, conspiratorially.

“Guys,” I said, exasperated, “enough, it’s Wy-ner.” “Plus,” I tried reasoning with 6, “if it were wiener it would be spelled ie instead of ei. See. W-E-I — it’s WY ner.”

“Hey, mom” asked 5, still performing acrobatic feats on the end of the cart, “do you know what a wiener is?”

“A hot dog?” I said, hopefully, as I reached the bread aisle. Please let it be a hot dog I prayed silently.

“It’s another word for a Penis” she declared instructively.

“I have a Penis,” piped Kong, as a slender, gray-haired, grandmotherly woman squeaked out a suppressed laugh and pretended to concentrate on the fat-free mayonnaise, “But 5 has a PA-china.”

“Yep,” I nodded to Kong, “you’ve got it.” My face darkened to the same shade as the ketchup bottles on my left. “Who wants donuts??”

Nope, things haven’t gotten much easier in the last two years. But, at least it wasn’t this conversation … yet.