A little Monday giggle
Monday, September 17th, 2007My son’s Kindergarten teacher is adopting a new baby. At least, I think that’s what this must mean:
“Mrs. J is going to be gone for awhile. She went to China to get pregnant.”
My son’s Kindergarten teacher is adopting a new baby. At least, I think that’s what this must mean:
“Mrs. J is going to be gone for awhile. She went to China to get pregnant.”
“B-I-L-b-e, that’s the book for me…” sings 4 cheerfully after VBS this week.
“NO!” corrects 5 quickly, and, for a moment, I glimpse what life must have been like for my sister. “It’s B-I-B-L-E,” he continues adamantly, sounding each letter out slowly, then finishing up in song “that’s the book for me, for me.”
“No, it isn’t.” 4 holds her ground.
“It is. It spells Bible,” he retorts condescendingly, and starts the verse again.
“B-I-L-B-E…” 4 ignores him, undaunted.
With his oldest-child-control-freak irritation bubbling up in him, 5 interrupts, and in a chastising tone repeats “NO…, 4, it is n–”
“Fine,” she cuts him off breezily. “That can be the book for you. B-I-L-B-E, that’s the book for me.”
Growing up, when my family would venture from our Montana homeland and trek east to visit family and friends, I used to delight in baffling the easterners with my explanations about how – in the great Out West – we did, indeed, enjoy most of the modern conveniences of the time.
I would escape from the adult gathering with younger relatives and the similarly-aged neighbors who’d been invited over to entertain me during the visit, and regale them with tales of The West. Some young girl would usually inquire, in innocent, honest naivety, whether I rode a horse to school or knew any real cowboys. I once mentioned that I rather enjoyed country music, which in the 80’s was played mostly on am radio stations. “Well, of course you do,” responded one boy, completely without sarcasm, “you don’t even have FM radio in Montana do you?”
In a way, I’ve kind of missed those days. So imagine my joy when 5 recently asked, “when you were growing up in Montana – did you speak English, or do they speak something different there?”
I really wanted to make something up, but I refrained. I did, however, show him this picture of me and hot little sister circa 1985 or 6. I told him we were on our way to school.
The KidSpeak category has been big this week. Perhaps all the running has made me loopy and easily entertained.
We had Alfredo Broccoli Fettucine tonight. After we had discussed the menu several times, 5 finally piped up, “Mom, why do you keep saying I’m afraid of broccoli. I’m not afraid of it. I just don’t like it.”
4: Grandma, are you a lawyer? You know everything.
Grandma: No
5: No, 4, Lawyers don’t know everything, they just think they do.
Grandma: Oh really, do you know any lawyers?
5: Nope.
Grandma didn’t have the heart to break the news.
“Dad,” said 5 at dinner tonight, “do you like your bratwurst?”
“What?” replied hubs, who’d not heard the question.
“Nevermind,” said 5, “it was a retalky question.”
“A ‘retalky’ question?”
“Yeah, one you that you don’t really need to answer – retalky.”