B: When I was a kid, I wasn’t careful with knives.
Blake tried kale for the first time.
“Kale’s good. It didn’t make me throw up.”
I suppose if you’re five, that’s the litmus test for vegetables.
B: My peppermint was stuck in my neck.
Me: In your throat.
B: Yes. Which is in my neck, so technically the peppermint was stuck in my neck.
Well, he’s not wrong…
B: Mama, this smoothie is good, but it tastes like wine.
No, he has NEVER had wine. I have no idea where that came from. Also, no, the smoothie did not taste like wine.
We usually keep those French doors on the left closed. I walked by a few minutes ago and Blake had opened one. “I wanted to feel the breeze in my hair.”
I’m not sure where this refreshing breeze is supposed to come from, but I don’t think opening an extra interior door is going to do it.
B: I didn’t want to bother the time to put on my socks, so I just put on my shoes.
Blake apparently went downstairs while I was in the shower and turned his computer back on (after our power went out). I went down to wake Jack up, but didn’t notice the computer was on.
B: Mama, is my monitor done loading yet?
Me, with a blank look: I don’t know what that means. (As far as I knew, he hadn’t left his video game the whole time.)
B: My monitor! Is it done loading? (Because rephrasing the question and talking louder always makes it make more sense.) On my computer? (Ah! There we go!)
Me: It’s not your monitor. The power went out. You need to turn your computer back on.
B: I know! Is my monitor done loading yet?
Me, after going downstairs to make sure his computer is running and happy after the power outage: Yes, your monitor is all loaded.
This one isn’t a funny conversation, but still something I want to remember later and something I enjoy sharing.
Yesterday, I had to separate the boys because they would not stop bickering, and Jack was starting to get mean (yay, puberty). Blake had fixed himself a sandwich an hour or so earlier, and the bread and peanut butter were still on the table. He came downstairs and asked me to help him with the jelly lid. I did, then came back down. A few minutes later, he called down, asking me to help him with Jack’s bedroom door. (It sticks.) When I reminded him they were supposed to be taking some time apart to calm down, he said, “But I made Jack and sandwich and I can’t open his door.” Jack didn’t want the sandwich, but ate it anyway when B got upset because he didn’t want it.
This morning, I had enough batter to make 1 1/2 batches of pancakes, instead of our normal 2 batches. The boys had 3 each, and I had one small one I’d made with what was left in the bowl. B was eating his last pancake, and was confused because I was eating one.
“I thought you said there was only two more.”
“There were the last two I was cooking then, then I made this little one for me. You each got three, and I got one.”
Handing me his pancake, “Here.”
“Thank you, baby. You eat it. I want your tummy to be full. I’ll make a smoothie in a minute.”
After another couple bites, “Here. My tummy is all full.”
And this is why I don’t send them to boarding school.