Crazy conversations

There are lots of reasons to be glad it is baseball season again. (Although personally, I’d much prefer the weather inside the gym for a couple more weeks.) Our boys, however, don’t seem to have a problem with the cooler temperatures, and as we made our first outing Monday night--against my earnest protests--I remembered one of the biggest reasons I love going to games…our crazy conversations.

Now Blair isn’t that far of a drive, but it’s amazing the chats we can have with our kids when we turn off the radio and simply take the time to listen. Some things, I’ll admit, don’t make me too proud. Others are down right ridiculous. And still others…well, I’ll let you decide.

Cooper: Mom, when are we gonna get a baby?
Me: I didn’t know we had sent off for one.
Brisco: Yeah! When are we gonna get that baby?!
Me: You people are crazy.

Cooper: My favorite word is “Mutasha”.
Me: What does that mean?
Cooper: I don’t know.

Brisco: I wish nothing cost anything.
Me: What?
Brisco: I wish everything was free so nobody would run out of money.
Me: Yeah, that’d be cool.

Cooper: Who’s on the ten dollar bill?
Me: I don’t know. Let me look…it’s Hamilton.
Cooper: How do you know?
Me: It says his name right under his face.

Brisco: How’d we get our food so fast?
Me: I don’t know. I guess it cooked fast. Maybe that’s why they call it “fast food”.
Brisco: Maybe they should call it “free food”.
Me: Yeah. If it really was free, that’d be great.
Brisco: No. They should call it “fast, free food”.
Me: Yeah. Even better.
Brisco: No. They should call it “Fast food. Free food. Just the way you like it.”
Me: Son, I do believe I see a future for you in advertising.

Cooper: My favorite word is “Chihuahua”.
Me: I thought you said your favorite word was “Mutasha”?
Cooper: Oh yeah. My first favorite is “Mutasha”. Then “Chihuahua”.
Me: What does “Mutasha” mean?
Cooper: I don’t know.
Me: Where did you hear it?
Cooper: On the first Star Wars. It’s Spanish.
Me: What? I didn’t know they spoke Spanish on Star Wars. How do you know it’s Spanish?
Cooper: I don’t know. Cause I didn’t know what they were saying. I just like the way it sounds.
Me: It could be any language, you know. There’s lots of them. French. Italian. Wookie.
Cooper: Oh. Well, I don’t know what language it is.
Me: Now, “Chihuahua”? That’s Spanish.

Cooper: I wanna be President, but I don’t wanna die.
Me: Coop, everybody dies sometime. You don’t have to be a President to die. And if you wanna be President some day, you can. You can be anything you want to be.
Cooper: But a girl can’t be President, right?
Me: Uh, no. A girl can most definitely be President.
Brisco: Well that’s dumb!
Me: Excuse me? This “girl” sitting in the front seat might just come back there and box your ears. It is NOT dumb, and girls can do anything boys can do.
Brisco: Na Uh! They can’t be preachers!
Me: Ok. So you got me there. They can’t be preachers.
Brisco: And they don’t have wienies!
Me: Uh, No. They don’t, but what’s that got to do with anything?
Cooper: They can’t pee standing up.
Me: Ok. Right again. You two seem to be missing the point. What I’m trying to say is that if you work hard, you can be anything you want to be.
Cooper: So…if I wanna be a softball player…I can?
Me: (full of sarcasm) Sure, Coop. If you really want to be a softball player, you can.
Cooper: Ha!! No thanks.

(After listening to far too much conversation between the two boys about “poop” and the various forms it might take)
Me: Ok, that’s enough talk about poop.
Brisco: What? No more poopy talk about poop?
Me: Brisco! I’m serious!
Brisco: Ok, poop. Oops. I mean, Sorry.
Me: You guys wanna talk about poop so much, if a baby ever does come to our house, I’m putting you both in charge of changing poopy diapers. We’ll see how much you wanna talk about poop after that.
Cooper: Ooo! No!
Brisco: Oh, Yeah! Poop!

And that’s All in a day’s work!