Skip to main content

Jokes On Me


I've been told a lot lately by Sawyer that I just don't get "second grade humor."  He is correct.  He isn't all that funny.  At least not when he's trying to be.  Bodily functions and terrible jokes don't really tickle my sense of humor.  

When neither Ross nor I laughed at his joke the other day, he said, "It's not funny.  I get it," and stalked out of the room.  Now that was funny.  His jokes really are terrible though, and most of the time they don't make sense.  It's fine.  What he lacks in comedy he more than makes up for in confidence.  

"I can cut your hair for you, Dad."

"No."

"Just listen, I know how to do it."

"No."

"You just use a comb and scissors.  That's how Viola did it in Hank the Cow Dog."

"Just because you read it in a book, doesn't mean you know how to do it.  And Hank the Cow Dog?! No. Not a chance.  Not ever."

"You just need to trust me."

"No."

We promptly and emphatically told him he was not to try cutting anyone else's hair either.  I think we ruined his day.  It's something we take great pride in.  

His confidence is great, but we are still trying to harness it.  We have to remind him not to give unsolicited advice to teachers, coaches and professionals.  He's getting better.  He just has so many great ideas, aka: untested theories.  It's a process.  Are we the only ones???

I feel like we are in an awkward phase with him.  We are still enjoying some childhood innocence and naivety, but we are on the precipice of him maturing into the next stage.  His ideas aren't necessarily realistic yet, but he is finding his voice...check that.  The boy has always had a voice and words, so many words.  He is at a point now, however, where he is starting to listen (a new skill) and wants to be included in more mature conversations and discussions.  It's fun to watch this development, but also a touch sad to see the little boy in him growing up.  

On that note, he doesn't want me to kiss his cheeks anymore.  I'm not okay.  Luckily, his little brother told me I can kiss his cheeks twice when Sawyer doesn't let me give him a kiss goodnight.  It's a good compromise, but I'm not sure I'm ready to relinquish that privilege quite so easily.            

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pink Stinks

Our girls, like most four-year-old girls, love pink.  And purple.  And sparkly things, unicorns, butterflies, lizards and cats.  But especially pink.  Their brothers aren't so fond of pink.  They prefer the color dirt.  I know this because it's what they have chosen for the color of our walls, windows, light switches and their socks.   "Do you like pink?"  Emerson asked Fischer one day not long ago. "No." "Why?" "Because pink stinks !" Cue 'angry tears and screaming.' This of course delighted her brother who began using the line anytime he wanted to see her cry.  Which was often.  It didn't change her passion for the color, however.  She still demanded the pink plate, pink cup, pink shirt, pink shoes, and pink gum if she had the choice.  Because pink is the best when you're four.   Fast forward a couple of weeks.  The girls were collecting pieces of garbage off the van floor.  Why?  I don't know, b...
Post a Comment
Read more

Triple Threat

 People think we are raising twins, but they're wrong.  We actually have triplets: Emerson, Carter, and Carterror.  It's true.  Carterror doesn't hang around often, but when the days are long and naps have been missed, she comes out swinging.   Today, when we should have been napping, we ran errands.  We needed some grain for our cows, so before picking up the boys from school, we stopped at the feed store.  The girls spent a little time looking at all the fish, birds, and pets they have for sale.  Immediately, after telling them not to touch the tanks, Carter tried to go fishing.  That's when I realized Carterror had arrived.  I called her name to stop her and realized her shirt was exceptionally lumpy.   "What's in there?" I asked, pointing to her newly developed bosom.   "My kitty," she replied, pulling out a stuffed cat from her sweatshirt.  A minute later, we were walking down an isle of bovine parapher...
Post a Comment
Read more

Fear Factor

 Did you know that it has been not  scientifically proven that a baby can smell her mother's presence through a closed door.  It's probably the smell of fear that they are actually attuned to, but nonetheless.  I hold my breath and walk on tiptoe past the baby's room and still get busted nearly every time.  My fear is pungent. Besides waking the babies, I have another fear currently in the forefront of my mind.  Don't mind me, this is just another episode of True Confessions.. .  Here it is: the boys are getting so much outside time that they are building up incredible endurance.  It's great really, but it is   becoming  so hard to wear them out. It used to be an hour at the playground and we were golden.  Now, they basically put in an eight-hour workday, and it's just a warm-up!  Does anybody have a treadmill....?  Real school is going to be a bit of an adjustment for the big guy next fall.    Speaking of s...
4 comments
Read more