conversation with Boy

I've already posted today -- but somethings I have to write down immediately or my middle-aged brain will forget what I was going to say.

Conversation with Boy as we cleaned the supper dishes (the dish part is irrelevant, but I need to write down that he helped with that so I can remember in the future that such co operative clean ups have happened.)

Boy:  I gotta get me a barber.
Me:  mmhmm
Boy:  Are there any barbers around here?
Me:  I don't know.  What's wrong with the hair dresser?
Boy:  Ah.  Hairdressers don't shave your 'stach and beard.  A good old fashioned barber does that.
Me:  (stunned)  And this is a current problem for you??
Pause in conversation.
Boy:  Have you ever seen anyone club a baby seal?
Me:  No.  On TV maybe.
Boy:  Are you against clubbing baby seals?
Me:  YES!
Boy:  Even though that is someone's livelihood?
Me:  I'm not against making a living, I'm against the clubbing thing.
Boy:  So you are against bonking it on the head.
Me:  Yes.
Boy:  If you are against that, what are you FOR?
Me:  I'm for round bales and air conditioning.
Pause again.
Boy:  Where did that come from?
Me:  Where did this conversation come from?
Boy:  Good point.
End of conversation.

boy's acronym

Boy went to a hockey game with some friends on Friday.  It is amazing what pre-teen fellows come up with on their own....

He came home to have this conversation with me:
Boy:  Mom, you know how they have LOL and TTYL and stuff, for short forms.
Me:  Uh huh.
Boy:  You know, like "laugh out loud" and "talk to you later."
Me:  impatient because Boy is so sure I am an idiot that he often feels the need to explain the basics to me... Yes.  Yes.  I am familiar with the terms.
Boy:  I have a new one.  giggles.
Me:  uh huh.  suspicious, I know that giggle.
Boy:  PMP.  smiling.
Me:  thinking.  I don't get it.
Boy:  laughing out loud now (that's LOL, you know.)  Poop My Pants!!

Geez.

Boy-Girl Speak

We don't allow Boy or Girl to put each other down or to use profanity (see Swear Jar article).  But being who they are Boy and Girl have come up with alternative ways to bug each other and drive me crazy at the same time.  It's a win-win for them.

I can't even tell you how it started, or when, but the use of the word "hobo" has come to be used as noun, verb, adjective and adverb -- none of which are used the way the word is intended to be used (as in a hobo was a homeless drifter; most commonly used in the Great Depression of the 1930s).

I hear things like "you have hobo hair," and "why don't you hobo away," and "oh yeah, you're smart like a hobo, ha ha" etc. etc. 

I have corrected both children repeatedly.  As an English major improper use of the English language bugs me. And they know it.

Sometimes Girl will ask hobo questions.  Like "do hobos wear underwear?" or "do hobos really eat cats?"  No, no, no I explain.  Hobo is not a species, hobos were homeless men.  There really aren't such things as hobos anymore, I say.

"Yeah," says Boy.  "How come Girl smells like a hobo?"

Then Girl usually chases him and says, "well you look like a hobo!"

So I give up.

But I'm thinking the solitary, quiet life of a hobo seems pretty good to me.....

big, deep questions

(Hello friends, I've been absent from posting for a few weeks -- had a conference, read about 5000 report cards (really just 232, but that's alot), and have been sick with a cold/flu/exhaustion for about a week.  But I'm back now with new thoughts...)

Boy has asked some pretty big questions lately.  Questions that I can't answer.  Not the "where to babies come from questions" (Thank goodness) but questions that make me say "hmmmm?"

For those much wiser than I, please feel free to post the answers in the comments and I'll be sure to pass them along to Boy.

Are you ready???  Remember these are Boys wonderings, not mine.  Though I do have the same concern about question number 3. 

Question 1
Why do people pay money for ripped jeans?

And, why can't I wear the jeans I ripped in the shop to school, if it's the "in" thing.  The answer to this one is "because I said so!"

Question 2
Why do they call it a hamburger?  It's not made of  ham.  AND if it really is meant to be "meat burger" why to they put vegetation like lettuce and tomatoes on it?  That should be on a veggie burger.  Why do meat eaters need to specifically ask that there be no vegetation polluting the hamburger?

Question 3
Why does Rocky always smell like butt?

better late than never

I started this Christmas stocking in November 1998, just before Boy was born. 

It is 14pt. counted cross-stitch.  The plan was that I would present it to the new baby for Christmas 1999, for his/her first Christmas.  If you know anything about a)counted cross-stitch or b) having a new baby or c) me, you would know that this was a ridiculously amibitious (read: impossible) project.

I got a good piece of the tree done when Boy was 3 months old.  He was in the hospital for a major surgery and I needed something to keep my hands busy so my heart and head wouldn't explode with fear.  When Boy came home it got put away on the one-more-thing-to-feel-guilty-about shelf. 

I pulled it out again to take to the arena when he had hockey practice.  My self-diagnosed ADHD won't let me sit and do nothing, these hands need to be busy.  I think it took me about 4 seasons to complete.  It became a bit of a joke for the other hockey moms -- "still working on your stocking, eh?" 

Well now it's finished, and I will hang it for Boy for his 12th Chirstmas. 

I have started one this season for Girl.  She asked me if she will have it before she goes to college.

It's hard to say, really.  Depends on whether or not Boy keeps playing hockey I guess.....

conversation with Boy -- realities of life

So I was leaving Boy to babysit Girl.  To Girl I said "listen to your brother.  Do not give him a hard time."
To Boy I said "Be kind to your sister.  Not be bossy."

Thus opened the following insightful discussion:

Boy:  Why can't I boss her.  I'm in charge of her so I'm the boss."
Me:  You are not the boss.  I am the boss and I am telling you to be kind and patient.
Boy:  When can I be boss?
Me:  When you are all grown up and in your own house with your own kids you can be boss.
Boy:  No fair.  I'll never be boss.
Me:  I just told you, someday you will be in charge.
Boy:  No I won't.  My wife will.  The woman is always the boss.

Amen.

Hockey

Boy started back to hockey this morning.  I'm an "Arena Mom" again....

But
Sniff, sniff.
I was going through Boy's old equipment from his first forays to the arena for Mite hockey.  He was four.
This is what I found:

Old skates. 

For perspective.  These are his current skates.  They fit me.

Rocky is not in the photo for perspective.  Rocky is in the photo, 'cause I couldn't get him out of the way.  It seems, he loves freshly-stunk-up hockey equipment. 

Mite-size chest protector.

Four-year old's chest protector.   Twelve-year old's chest protector.
4 month old kitten.












I actually got weepy when I found these teeny-tiny reminders of his first days on the ice.  It's hard to believe I put him on the ice so small.  Sigh.  My baby's growing up.

(Boy is looking over my shoulder.  He says "and now I get to hit people.")
Sigh.  Now I can't believe I put him on the ice at all.

once, again, stumped on a title for this post

Conversation with the Boy:

Boy:  Mom, I just ate a LOT of jube jubes.

Me:  Uh huh

Boy:  I mean A LOT.

Me:  Uh huh.

Boy:  If I were to have a poop right now, it would be multi-coloured.

...and you know what my thought was?  I'm glad he used the word "poop."   Yep, right there, that's mother-or-the-year thinking, folks....