My Little Weirdos

 

Hola Wild Boy friends and family! I know, you're all in shock. It's only been a week and here I am again...what's next? End times? Maybe. Gav told Gabe yesterday that the Rapture was imminent because Gabe took a pack of fruit snacks without asking, and those kids are way more religiously savvy than I am, so I suppose the end of the world may be at hand.  But that's not why I'm back. Mainly I'm back because blogging seems SO MUCH MORE FUN then laundry, and those are my choices this afternoon.

I got to thinking, and not just based on my children citing Revelations to frighten one another, that sometimes my kids just aren't like normal kids.  Now, part of this is my fault I know. Because from the days they were born I refused to indulge in baby talk. I loathe it, and so the Cop and I always talked to them as tiny humans in full sentences.  This immediately backfired because they started talking back in full sentences, and before preschool were already loaded down with enough intel about our happy family to keep the church ladies praying and the preschool teachers wary. But on my behalf you will never meet an adult that has met either of the Wild Boys and had them shy away from conversation, which I guess could be deemed admirable. And you'll also hear from anyone that's known them since they learned to talk that while they are capable of kid conversation, sometimes the conversations they have are anything but, and that's where they become really entertaining.

I pump them for conversations all the time, because quite frankly it's fun. And I thought I'd share some of this week's gem with you, because laundry is waiting and I don't wanna.

Earlier this week, Gavin got to watch the infamous fifth grade video with all the other boys at school. I feel like I would super lax in my parenting if I didn't ask some questions about how that went over, right? Mind you, Gavin knows everything. So he tells me, anyhow. And he was totally disgruntled with the level of immaturity of the other boys during question and answer time.

Me: "Well, I'm sure that not all of them know as much as you do...and to be fair you need to ask to know right?"
Gav: "I guess. But I feel like they should at least use the right words."
Gabe: "Like what?"
Gav: "Well, like penis instead of dick."
Gabe: giggles
Gav: glares
Me: "Ok, well that could just be some slightly inappropriate slang."
Gabe: still giggling
Gav: "Right, but mom, one of the boys asked the teacher if women prefer long or short ones..."
Gabe, suddenly extremely attentive: "What did the teacher say?"

Which led to an extremely long lecture from Gavin to Gabe about how Gabe also CLEARLY wasn't mature enough for the video either, all while I tried not to giggle myself in the front seat of the car. Because Gavin is clearly a little more mature than I am about this I guess. Also, I have made a mental note that my kid's teacher has a way, way harder job than I do. I need to remember this come teacher appreciation week...this man appears to have earned alcohol.

Another fun little exchange came this morning, as we drove to practice past our annual town flea market, Dandelion Days:

Gabe: "I'm boycotting Dandelion Days, because nobody there actually sells dandelions."
Me: "And that's super important to you?"
Gabe: "Yes. Not going is boycotting right? Or not buying? How does that work?"
Gav: "Let me explain..."
Me: "Because you have so much experience with boycotting?"
Gav: "Well, a little bit from my time protesting the King."
Me: "WHAT? What King?"
Gav: "King George."
Gabe, throwing a fist in the air and chanting: "Down with the King! Down with taxes!"
Gav, nods approvingly.

Following which I just sat in stunned silence and kicked myself for engaging those little weirdos without a healthy dose of caffeine first. So I bought a giant iced tea, and thought I'd be ready for whatever I encountered as the morning progressed. But then at practice, Gabe became infuriated at a truck that parked with it's front tires off the asphalt and into the gravel beyond. Why? Because clearly he demands order and tidiness (except in matters of penmanship, matching socks, making beds, USING HIS OWN TOOTHBRUSH, hitting the toilet bowl when he pees, not letting the dog eat his food at the same time as him...so wait, no, it can't be about order or tidiness). Anyhow, the Cop managed to come by to see us while we were there and Gabe was poised and ready to greet him with demands:

Gabe: "Look at it - why would he do that? Why would he park like that?"
Me: "Bud, it's only a couple inches over."
Gabe: "Still. He should get a ticket. Does Dad have his ticket book? That truck needs a ticket."
Me, trying to soothe the savage beast: "It's not really breaking a law that needs a ticket kiddo. What should he write him a ticket for?"
Gabe, clearly incensed by our failure to respond: "FOR BEING A BUFFOON, OBVIOUSLY!"

So Lord help us all if that kid every gets a ticket book or gets to make any laws, because  a LOT of people are getting ticketed if that happens.  Also, one iced tea is not enough to successfully engage, so there's another mental note made.

And as I sit here writing, the boys just stumbled in from playing outside with a nice stream of blood flowing from Gabe's nose. He tells me he fell into a snow bank diving for a baseball, which seems highly possible, but he also tells me he is highly susceptible to nose bleeds if:
1) It's extremely cold
2) It's extremely hot
3) He is sad
4) He is angry
5) He is hungry
          or
6) He hits it on something.

He admits he hit it, but he says he's also pretty hungry and may need a snack to prevent future hemorrhaging. So, mom duty calls. Until next time, happy chatting!