Hey there, blogosphere! You still there? Yes? Oh good. Because I have something for you.....
I know, I know.... It's been a while. But you know....... I've been working my arse off, and after a really long day I have a hard time sitting back down at the computer to bang out the details of the latest escapade. Not that there haven't been escapades. Hardly a day goes by without producing some sort of usable material. It's just... You know..? Mama's TIRED.
But I have a good one, blogosphere. One I think you'll enjoy. So I'll tell the story and you can tell me if you thought it was worth getting back on the horse for, OK?
So the boys have picked up the elementary-school habit of telling "Your Mama's SO fat" jokes. (On a side note, we've discovered that when Gibson tells them, he thinks there's nothing funnier in the world. However, when Landis wanders into the same territory, Gibson gets really offended that anyone would dare speak of his mother that way. I mean jump-up-ready-for-a-fight-pissed, y'all. It's hilarious. But I digress...)
We've taken the liberty to change the format from "Your Mama's SO fat...." to "Your butt is SO big..." which is only mildly better, I know. But in our household, we like to go straight to the source. Hurl those insults directly. ("I'm not talkin' about yo' mama! I'm talkin' about YOU!") It's somehow more acceptable......
Anyway...... We're all crammed in the car on a 3 hour road trip, and to pass the time, someone starts in with the big-butt jokes. We go a few rounds, and we're all cracking up because the boys say things that barely make sense - and of course they think it's hysterical.
So Mike jumps in: "Hey Landis.." he says, "YOUR butt is SO big that when you pull down your pants it says 'WIDE-LOAD'!"
Landis wastes no time retaliating. "Hey DADDY!" he replies. "YOUR butt is SO big that when YOU pull down YOUR pants it says F#@K!"
The car immediately goes from loud guffaws to complete silence.....
Landis, for his part, is waiting for the uproarious laughter. Now, it's important to note that he talks with a little lisp, and it was kind of loud in the car -- what with all the ha-ha-ing going on -- so before we totally and completely crap ourselves, we want to be sure that we heard what we think we heard.
I twist myself around in my seat so I'm facing him: "Uh......Landis? What did you say?"
"I said.... "DADDY! YOUR butt is SO big that when YOU pull down YOUR pants it says F#@K!" He delivers the exact same line with the exact same enthusiasm, and once again waits for uproarious laughter, because he knows that his joke is downright hysterical and that we just didn't hear him correctly the first time. He's poised on the edge of his seat, eyebrows raised, head cocked sideways, waiting for it..... waiting for it.... waiting for it......
Silence ensues. Mike is staring at him in the rear-view mirror. I'm staring at him all slack-jawed and twisted around from the passenger seat. Gibson is staring at him with eyes as big as dinner plates. Nobody says a thing. Except Landis, who slowly brings his hand up to his mouth, his eyes widening, and whispers "Is that a bad word?"
Gibson nods with so much vigor, I think his little head is going to snap off his neck. (Which, frankly, is a surprise to me. How does he know that?) "YES!" Mike barks, gripping the steering wheel for dear life, trying desperately to drive while simultaneously trying to meet Landis's eyes in the rear-view. "Yes it is."
"Where did you hear that word?" I ask him.
"I didn't hear it." he replies.
"Well how do you know it then?"
Guess how he knows it? He saw it on the bus seat. And do you want to know where he was when he saw it on that bus seat? He was headed to a field trip. With 70 other children, who by the way, are mostly 5, 6 and 7 year olds. He saw it on the bus I arranged to borrow for our day camp kids.
Y'all.... He learned it at the day camp that mommy runs. And when that realization sunk in -- that I had unwittingly contributed to our child's new vocabulary -- I laughed. (To which Mike barked "NOT APPROPRIATE right now!" And he was right. But oh my God, it was hard to control myself.)
Turns out that Gibson - along with countless other children - had seen it too. Apparently it was written on at least 3 seats, but someone pointed it out to one of the counselors who, thank God, covered it all with medical tape out of the first aid kits.
I won't bore you with all the details of the entire conversation except to say that we had a little talk about the F-word, how rude it is, and how he should never, ever, ever, ever, ever say it again. He agreed.
And then we got on with our road trip -- sans the Big-Butt jokes -- and looked for other, more G-rated ways to pass the time.
If there's an up-side to this little incident -- and I think there is -- it's this: Our 6 year-old can read. Really, truly read.
Surprising no one
3 years ago