Out of the Mouths of (almost) Babes

So, I gave my daily quiz in my freshmen course this morning.

I go over the answers. Students respond with "I wrote ... do I get it?"

I respond that that answer probably doesn't merit any points because...

One student looks square at me and loudly proclaims "THAT'S CRAP".

For real?

Mouths of Babes, Part II

I didn't intend this to be such a regular feature, or always penis-centric. But, I just couldn't let this pass without sharing it.

I have a friend that has three girls for our three boys. As babysitters are so blooming expensive and our kids play nicely together - we periodically sit for one another so the other couple can go out. This past Saturday it was our turn. We kept the girls; kid total = six, two 7-year-olds, two 5-year-olds, and two nearly-3-year-olds. Talk about a rowdy house!

Her little girl is potty-training. So, we made a big production of her peeing on the potty like a BIG girl. So, our little attention-hounding three year old needed to pee on the potty too. I took him into our lavatory, removed his sodden diaper and set him on the pot. He dribbled a little pee, so we lavishly praised him (this is how exciting our house is).

I (obviously) couldn't put him back into a stinky, drippy, wet diaper - so, off he toddled NEKKID to rest of the world. I came out to corral him to our bedroom, where we keep the diapers.

The little girl gaped at his little naked thing. She cocked her head. Then, she exclaimed "HE HAS A TAIL!?".

"No, no dear", I reassured her "he's a boy, boys have a penis, that's a penis".

She looked at me again, cocked her head, and stated (as though I were just insane), "No, he has a TAIL!"

Mouths of babes, Edition I

While J coached our oldest's soccer team this evening, I had my hands full with a rambunctious and overtired three year old. He climbed on me and tried to grab my camera and phone while I guarded my keys and tried to cheer appropriately.

So, I failed - during the water break, I congratulated the goalie on her hustle - the ball never made it to her end.

Then, toward the end of practice, my little guy shouts - "Hey that's my daddy, he has a big penis"

whispered- "what?"

"MY DADDY IS THERE, HE HAS A BBIGGG PEEEENIS"

"Uh, come here honey"

"OOOHH, AND I AM POOOOPY".

Too true.

Bad Car... Bad!

This has been a monumentally bad car week.

I had the tires rotated before my vacation with my sister. Five kids and two adults in one minivan for a week requires a fully working vehicle.

Once we hit the road, it was obvious the balancing job was not complete - the steering shimmied at high speeds...worse when braking (suggesting rotors and new pads are needed).

Then, the engine light came on. One day of vacation down to sit in a Honda dealership - $100 for diagnostics, $200 for a new valve, and $200 for service charges equals $500 lost plus one precious vacation day.

On the way home,with my three in the car and in the middle of the night, I blew a tire on the highway. Yes, I suppose that I could have changed it (I haven't done that for years, though).

I called AAA and lost about 45 minutes and a $15 tip. Drove home on the nickel spare.

This morning - one hour and $472 for four new tires (ya couldn't have mentioned my bald tires a week ago?).

Bad car, bad.

Eclectic stuff.

Earlier today, I was busy and J was having a nap with T. So, Z and B were left to their own devices with limited supervision outside.

They were going to conduct science with spiders.

A few minutes later, I go outside to check. Z and B are both wearing their rubber boots. Z is carrying a camping pad and an umbrella. B has a shovel. (Hmmmm.)

Then, I pop in the shower and B comes in to say that they need some supplies. He needed either three crickets or food coloring. (mmmm, ok)

I look outside after my shower, and they have the shovel, pad, boots, umbrella, crickets, some tupperware, Elmer's Glue, and some dish soap. (No on the glue and the soap).

Maybe I should go check on them again?

Happy Independence Day!

When I was a kid, we always spent the month of July at a cabin on a lake in Connecticut. It was not a fancy, schmancy neighborhood - in fact, it was a little bit redneckish (still is).

So, the fourth always meant hours of illegal fireworks demonstrations, increased traffic in the burn unit, drunken fights at various cabins around the lake and lots of loud music. Noise travels exceedingly well on water. So, between the fascinating bouts of domestic violence and drunken debauchery, and the illegal fireworks displays - we kids used to spend the whole evening wrapped in blankets on our dock watching the neighbors and/or their explosives (of one kind and another).

We were always disappointed, however, that our dad wasn't cool enough to have any fireworks to shoot from our dock.

One year, dad must have gotten tired of our complaints. So, he set us up on the other dock (for safety) and pulled out one, lone firework that he promised would produce excitement for hours. No one else around here will set off anything like this, I can promise you.

We sat dockside for quite awhile watching the brilliant glow from this fantastic firework - waiting for something more to happen... waiting, waiting.... waiting some more.

It turns out - road flares just aren't that exciting.

Why they are cute...

This little sweet potato... stinkbug... butterball... honeypie... (you know what I mean) is so stinkin' adorable so we will forgive him for the unspeakable damage he does now and will do in the future to everything we own.

Let's see... a hole in a screen, snapped a faucet off of its fixture, removed several curtain rods and lost the parts, filled our entire porch with play sand, pooped at the pool, wrote in a new book of mine, dropped my cell phone, and did unspeakable things to his older brothers.

And... still we keep him.

That smile is why (and his crazy tiny little voice - when it isn't shrieking).