Weird Kids

The kids and I spent all day looking for a heart-shaped pillow (turns out October isn’t the best month to be looking for heart-shaped pillows) and Halloween costumes. We went to ten different stores. Foursquare informed me that I had reached “OverShare” status. And that was before we hit Burger King and Kroger. I do have to share that we walked to several stores instead of driving the car from store to store in the shopping center. (That’s for my eco-friendly friends.) (It occured to me two hours after I wrote this that it’s not actually October yet. Apparently no one caught that or you’re all being nice to the weird girl.)

Anyway, as we were buckling in after leaving one store, a car alarm was going off. Jeffrey had asked me why I need a heart-shaped pillow. I was telling him it’s for my blog (you’ll see why in a few days), and that my blog was about books, and because at that time, Bennett was bobbing his head and making faces in time with honking alarm, I added, “and weird kids”.

Jeffrey said, “We’re not weird kids! What makes us weird kids?”
“What about you isn’t weird?”
Five seconds later, “So if you swallow a cheese maker…”
“And you’re asking why I said you’re weird?”

And that’s how my whole day went. Incidentally, my step-son’s girlfriend has a heart-shaped pillow she’s letting me borrow, so I was able to abandon that hunt after about six stores. (Thank you, Becca!)

BTW, don’t tell me I shouldn’t call my kids weird. We both laughed all through the conversation. We have an excellent relationship and they (well, Jeffrey does, Bennett isn’t really old enough) tease me all the time, too.