Who Needs a Comedian - I Have Kids - Part I

When I came home from work today, my youngest son came running over with a book he'd brought home from the library. It was turned to the page about babies and their development. It depicted photos of a woman in various stages of pregnancy, her shirt continuing to stretch over her ever-enlarging belly, next to drawings of the fetus in utero.

"Look, look, Mom . . . when I was in your belly, I was growing like this! And your belly was all big like this!" We took the opportunity to look back at some pregnancy pictures and he marveled that he was "in my belly."

* * * * *

Later in the evening, as I stole a piece of his macaroni and cheese, I asked him if he wanted more.

"No, Mom, my belly is fully."

I lifted his shirt, his little 7-year old belly curving out like they do. He puffed it out a little harder, as if to emphasize his point. I laughed - "Do you have a baby in your tummy?" I asked.

"No!" he laughed, and reached over to rub my belly. "You don't have a baby in your tummy anymore."

I laughed and said "No, Mommy's belly is flat now."

There was a pause. "Well, not really," he said matter-of-factly.

I stopped, unsure of how to interpret that or what an appropriate response to a 7-year old might be, short of a slap upside the head.

Like men tend to like to do, he continued, trying to dig himself out of the hole. "I'm not saying you're fat, Mom. I'm just saying your tummy is kind of bumpy and stuff. Like mine." He patted his belly proudly, extending it as far as he could.

I stared him down. He looked up and gave me his cheesiest smile. I thought about reminding him I was wearing a belt with a heavy buckle.

As I contemplated an appropriate punishment, I realized the best punishment would be to let it rest. In a few years, he'll be able to learn the hard way.

The same way we taught the rest of you when you tripped over your own lack of social filters.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

After life . . . afterlife?

On a lazy Sunday afternoon, my 10 year old son is pondering life, and the afterlife, with his 11 year old pal Josh and the rest of the family.

He says "I wonder what happens after we die. I mean, is that just it? Do we come back as angels? People? Do our spirits go in animals? Is there an afterlife?"

We try not to push to much theology on them . . . after all, our kids are starting to turn out as logical as the two of us, so cramming something down their throat is just going to lead to an interrogation later in life.

I piped up. "Well, I think there at least has to be some kind of recycling program . . . "

To which my 10 year old replied, "Well, hopefully not for everyone."

When I questioned him about it, assuming this was going to lead to a discussion about the relative merits of good guys and bad guys, he threw this one out there . . .

"Well, some people are like slinkies . . . not good for anything, really, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs."

I think I've become his straight man.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

I Could Just Bite Him . . .

Every mother thinks their kids are adorable. I have emperical evidence to back up my claim.

While the man of the house was out driving Ferraris, I was playing mom. A good mom, I think. Ok, I played hot mom the other night at the 'track . . .

So I'm making lunch for the boys. Easy stuff. Mac 'n Cheese and some sweet peas. Son #1 is in a rush - he's got friends to play with and a wicked game of Zelda in progress. So he wolfs down his food. The au pair ate quickly and took off.

I sat there with Son #2, reading the paper, while he struggled to keep peas on the fork.

"Hey Mom, know what?" he asked. "This is kind of like a date."

I snickered at his cuteness. Which made him think that I didn't understand. So he continued . . .

"You know? Like when two people are alone? And they do stuff together like eat and stuff?"

I hid my smile this time.

He's so cute . . . I could just bite him!

But remind me to check out what kind of shows my 5-year old is watching that he knows about dates . . .

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

A Love So Deep . . .

We have a loving family. Our children are open and free with their affection; I hope that never stops. Kisses and hugs abound in our household. Those of you who met me know that this holds true outside of our household as well.

Son #2 has developed a morning ritual when I leave that involves a complicated series of hugs, kisses, blowing kisses, throwing kisses, throwing hugs, standing in the window waving madly as I drive down the driveway, mouthing an exaggerated "I love you" . . . it's a long, involved process. That often results in tears if something interrupts or thwarts the process at a key point.

Today the ritual was the same . . . except he threw in this funny little jig as he stood in front of the window. As he stood there in his cartoon undies, waving and kissing and dancing, I suddenly realized why today's ritual included this complicated dance.

I mouthed "Go potty" and started pointing frantically toward the bathroom as I door as I drove away. He either reads lips well, or the call of nature was too strong . . . he ran, still waving frantically and blowing kisses as he did.

Mommy love trumps bodily functions, every time.

How many of you can say you love someone that much?

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife