Back when comedian Dennis Miller was an announcer for Monday Night Football, he would get a 60-second slot at the beginning of every broadcast to spout some fun stuff. I would actually understand about 5 seconds worth, due to his arcane historical references.
That's what it's like for my kids when I go into funny mode. Here are some samples from the past 48 hours:
Samantha: Daddy, look! I drew a crooked "B".
Me: What makes it crooked -- did it take some bribes and payoffs?
Samantha: (blank stare)
Samantha (as we're parking near a restaurant): Daddy, what are we doing?
Me: We're going to eat supper.
Samantha: No we're not! What are we doing?
Me: Oooookay. Um... we're all getting haircuts, then we're gonna buy a motorcycle.
Samantha: WHAT?!?!?!
Recently, we changed the kids' sleeping arrangements -- they're now in the same room. So we have a kids' bedroom, and a kids' playroom. So far it 's working well.
Last night Jamie was reading a book to both kids as they laid side by side in Samantha's bed. This is our new routine, and after the book is over, one of us rocks Jacks for a minute and then lays him in his crib.
Somehow, the book selection last night was "Barbie and the 12 Princesses." Jack didn't approve. It was so girly, that after three pages he was writhing in the bed and saying incoherent phrases as loud as he could, to drown out the estrogen. Jamie asked if he wanted to keep reading, or if he'd rather go see Daddy in the rocking chair. Jack said, "I unta go see Daddy."
Good boy. As he climed down from the pink bed and escaped the tale of dresses and parties, I told him:
"Come here, son, Daddy will fix it. Let's watch some wrasslin' and then scratch ourselves."
He said "Unkay". Samantha looked at me briefly, then went back to her book. Jamie had a good laugh, but she was the only one.
I'm afraid that by the time the kids can grasp the hilarity, I will be past my prime. Guess I'll have to revert to potty humor at that point. Burps and farts... my family's comedic legacy will live on.
Speaking of which, Jack told Jamie today that "Daddy poot." Traitor.
Explained
9 hours ago
5 comments:
Count your blessings. My six year-old son often says things that go over my head.
ah, Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses...know it well. It saddens me that a tree had to die for such dribble. ;D
I'm sure it's just because your little one is a genius, Hal.
And Greg, I couldn't listen to the dribble either. I honestly have no idea what the story is about. 'Cept there's probably princesses. And dancing.
"I'm sure it's just because your little one is a genius, Hal." I'd love to believe that, but alas, he's only reasonably bright. So much for that potential excuse. (Heavy sigh.)
I love reading time, but there were occasions...now Little Fish is reading on her own, though we still read to her every night. Right now it's Hiccup Horrendus III: How to Be a Pirate!
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!
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