This and that

Brisco has recently decided he likes to stick out his tongue. After explaining to him how this is rude and disrespectful behavior, he still refused to stop. So I told him if he sticks his tongue out, a bird will think it’s a worm and come rip it off.

The wind pants came out of the drawer this week. It’s funny how kids can’t remember the last time they wore long pants, but Brisco quickly figured it out saying, “Wind pants. You wear them in the wind.”

I tried to put long pants on Cooper one day for school, but he wasn’t having it. He said, “No, Mom. Somebody might look at me.”

We were at an arcade/restaurant last week and a teenage boy walked by with florescent pink hair. Immediately, Brisco pointed his finger and said, “Hey Mom! Look at that!” I quickly lowered his arm and told him that it is rude to point. A few days later, I had my hands in a pound of hamburger and he asked me where Cooper was. I gestured with a greasy finger to the back yard and he said, “Thanks, Mom. Oh, and it’s rude to point!”

Playing in puddles is a good way to burn off rainy-day energy. The kids like it too.

One boy is bothered when I curl my hair. The other boy insists I keep my toenails painted. Where do these things come from?

Lately, the boys have been wanting to take walks. Walks for them involve riding, pushing, pumping or dragging their “bikes”; however, we don’t own actual bicycles yet. Coop rides a tricycle and Brisco drives a scooter.

I didn’t realize that Cooper is really too big to ride a tricycle until I noticed his knees bumping the handlebars as he cruised down the middle of the street. He looks like a circus clown riding that thing.

Children riding scooters are no more safeguarded against skinned knees and elbows than those riding big boy bikes.

When doctoring skinned knees and elbows, Solarcaine and Dermoplast are about as different as peroxide and alcohol.

In our house, everything is a competition. What one does, the other has to do bigger, better and more of…even pooping our pants at the ballpark.

Whoever invented the hand movements to the song “Where is Thumbkin” must not have had children. Or maybe they lived on Siberia’s frozen tundra where the influence of modern society was at a lull. Brisco, proud that he’d mastered the part in the song, “Where is middle man?” came strolling through the ball park, in front of an entire section of people, waving his middle finger in the air, saying, “Mom! Look what I can do!”

While getting dressed for the ball game on Saturday, Brisco said, “I wish I wore a cubby.”
A bit confused, as usual, I said, “What’s a cubby?”
“A cubby!” he said. “Daddy’s boys wear them under their suits.”
Still not understanding I said, “Where do they wear them?”
“They wear them at the ball games,” he said, as if I was the most un-with-it parent alive.
“No, where under their suits?” I said.
“Right there,” he said, pointing to his midsection.
Oh. I get it. A cubby.

And that’s All in a day’s work!