Sorry, what was that?

My youngest, the Happy Critter, is a messy eater.  Whatever he eats ends up on his face.  After his daily breakfast of Eggos and Jimmy Dean turkey sausage he undoubtedly has syrup dripping down his belly, up his nose, and on his cheek.  When he gets dressed we usually wipe him down with a wash cloth or wet wipe.  

Last week he went upstairs after eating and I cleaned the kitchen table before getting him ready for the day. He had some time to mess around before I got to him.  He played in his sister's room, then in his, minding his own business.  I went upstairs after fifteen minutes or so and said, "OK, kiddo, lets get you ready for the day!"  He had syrup all over himself.  I grabbed the bag of wet wipes and started on his belly.  Then the following conversation transpired:

Me: OK, hold still, I need to wipe your face off.

Him: No! Mom! I have crapshit on.

Me: Sorry, what was that?

Him: Crapshit.  I have crapshit on my lips.

Me: All the more reason to wipe your face off.

Him: NO MOM! I HAVE SISSY'S CRAPSHIT on.  You can't wipe it off.

Me: You have your sister's crapshit on your face?

Him: No, it's pink crapshit.  (At this point he rubbed his lips together.)

Me: Oh! Are you saying Chap Stick?

Him: Yes, crapshit.  It's fruity!

Delivery.

My family had our first ever group photo taken.  17 people in white and blue, plus one red.  It was a perfect evening, with the exceptional sun dropping into night.  Afterward the whole clan came back to my house for dinner.  I tossed some apps on the table and then snuck into the office and ordered pizza for delivery.  Four 18" pizzas, ready in 45-60 minutes.  I thought better of the delivery timing after I hung up; so called back to tell them I would pick it up.

My sister drove me to the pizza place.  I hopped out of the car to get the food.  I entered and the girl at the front desk asked, "Can I help you?"  I said, "Yes, I'd like to pick up my order for Mel" She typed at the computer bee.boo.bah.boo.bee.bo.  No order for Mel.  She said, "What is your phone number?"  She typed again at the computer bee.boo.bah.boo.bee.bo.  No order for that number.  I said, "Remember, I called it in for delivery and then called right back and changed my mind to pick up?"  She looked at me as if I had three eyeballs.  She said, "Let me ask Roy if he took your order."  I knew he hadn't because I spoke to a girl.  She stepped into the kitchen and spoke with Roy and another girl.  Maybe it was that girl.  I was starting to panic; 15 hungry people were waiting at my house for pizza that hadn't even been made yet because these idiots confused my order in the order taking process.  I thought, "Don't get mad. It'll be fine."

Roy and the girl returned and he asked, "So you ordered for delivery but now you are here and want it for pick up?"  I said, "No, I called the order in for delivery but then called right back and said I wanted to pick it up so it would be faster."  He said, "What is your name?"  He typed, Mel.  No order for her.  He tried my phone number.  No order for that.  He said, "Ok... well. We do not have your order...so..."

I said, "That can't be! I ordered four 18" pizzas, one with cheese, one with..." The girl interrupted me.  She said, "Wait. What did you say you ordered?" I repeated, "F.O.U.R. 18" PIZZAS."  She smiled, "Ok, well you should go next door to FRANCO'S PIZZA.  This is Hong Kong Cuisine."

So I'm the idiot.  

Over my tears of hysterical laughter, the kind girl at the counter at Franco's Pizza asked, "Are you ok?"  I replied, "Yes, the Chinese spot next door didn't have my pizzas."  She chuckled and said, "That happens all the time..."  No it doesn't, but thanks.  I had just gotten myself together when a strong brut of a guy appeared carrying four very large pizza boxes my way.  I said, "Oh THANK YOU!"  I went to grab them from him and he said, "No, I'll help you carry them out."

I pointed to my sister's car, still grinning ear to ear and then opened the back seat door for him.  He stepped one foot off the sidewalk and bent forward to place the pizza in the car.  Then he farted.  Then I looked at his butt because he had just farted and I was in absolute disbelief that this pizza pick-up was going soooo terribly wrong.  It only made it worse to look at the butt that had just farted - because his pants weren't well fitted and his hairy butt crack appeared below his shirt tail.

You see.  It's like this: delivery.  Just get delivery.

Nose Picking

Boys.  What are you going to do sometimes?  They just ARE boys.  They can't help themselves.  My youngest, the Happy Critter, is exploring some new things lately.  Nose picking in particular.  For the past three years I have picked his nose.  I pick all the kids noses if they let me. 


I usually have wet wipes on hand for the booger I pull from his nostrils.  I haven't exactly made a show of pulling the booger out and putting it in a wipe or tissue; but, that has been the case.  Occasionally, in the absence of a wipe or tissue I wipe the boogers on myself.  I hate to admit that.  It's disgusting, I know that.  You think I don't know that?  I know that.  I am usually somewhat dirty though anyway - so it just works out.  I wipe the booger on my ratty t shirt or my sweaty yoga pants.  Then I wash the clothes like any other normal person.


But lately, since he has begun exploring nose picking for himself he has also begun eating his boogers.  Or attempting it at least.  I've caught him a handful of times taking his finger from his nose and putting it in his mouth.  I explain, as best as one can to a three year old, that its yucky.  No one eats boogers.  No one.  Eating boogers is like eating poop.  We just don't do it.  I haven't actually verbalized the boogers and poop bit because I don't want to give him any ideas.  That is just what I think in my head when I'm saying, "That is gross.  Very yucky!" 


Tuesday, however, we went shopping for some first day of school clothes at the mall.  The Happy Critter and Mister selected several new character t shirts: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Superman, The Justice League.  Both boys got new light up shoes because some marketing genius figured out kids like lights and parents are push overs for kids who like lights.  Though as a side note light up shoes are fun anywhere you go; so it doubles as a practical shoe purchase and a toy.  Win win. 


After making our purchases at JCP we headed back to the car.  Mister can buckle himself.  The Happy Critter is still in a 5 point harness so I helped him to his seat and got him settled.  As I did this I noticed a booger.  I said, "Sir, you have a booger in your nose.  May I get it?"  He replied, "Otay."  I got the booger.  Just as I was about to wipe the booger into a wipe he said, "No Ma.  In my mou."  I said, "Ummm... no.  I am not putting this booger in your mouth.  We do not eat boogers."  He said, "OTTTTTAAAAY!" 


He really thought I would give it to him.  He was miffed that I didn't feed him his own booger.  He looked at me like, "How rude."  Thankfully Mister gave me a supportive look and said, "that was disgusting" and I felt better.  Two out of three kids do not eat their boogers.  I'd call it a success.

It's Like Sputnik

It has been a long standing joke in my family that I have the biggest head out of everyone.  Everyone includes my siblings and their spouses.  The FACTS are ignored year after stinkin' year and jokes will always be made about the size of my gargantuan cranium.   

My head is, in fact, NOT THE BIGGEST HEAD in our family.  We took the time to measure and there were other noggins far greater in circumference than mine.  But I'll be the butt of the joke.  That's fine.  I'll keep laughing at the "down in front" jokes, the So I Married an Ax Murderer references.  I can handle it.  Even though I know (and you know) it isn't the truth.  I can cry myself to sleep on my huge pillow; I can manage my own weather system.  That's fine.

Only thing I'm not loving right now is I'm sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner with my kids.  Out of the blue Mister says, "Mom's head is really big and Dad's is medium."  I looked at my husband who nearly wet himself and gave him the "are you kidding me" look?  What happened there?  Did he pay the child?  Is he whispering these things in his ear while he sleeps.  

Then the child continued.  He put his fork down and used his hands to describe the difference in size.  "Mom's head is like this..." and his hands grew into a gigantic balloon type deal.  Then he said, "But Dad's head is more like..." and his hand grew outward an inch, maybe two.  

My husband, now nearly choking, said, "Honestly, this is good material.  Admit it, the kid is GOOD."  

I replied, "Oh yes, he's a real wise guy."  But what I wanted to say was "Puhlease, the kid doesn't know his ass from his elbow."  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdxDjJNsnv0

Four Year Old Funny

  Four year old boys think farts are the most hilarious of all things.  Anything that sounds remotely like a fart -the kid is hysterically laughing.  Heinz 57 never had a chance.  Flip flops on a rainy day? Stop It. 

Thankfully I've at least taught my four year old to excuse himself after farting.  The three year old boy just follows suit and laughs then says "I got toooots."  The rest of my life is going to be filled with fart humor; I have come to accept it.  

This morning a true gem fell into Mister's lap.  He and I were sitting in the living room on my mother's rocking chair.  I was drinking coffee and looking at 4th of July happenings on the iPad.  He was talking my ear off about bunny poop as he watched a bunny in the front yard.  Unfortunately, I farted.  I excused myself and he gave me the big eyed "eww gross Mom farted" look, while trying not to smile.  

Then he looked down toward the seat, near my tush.  Oddly, a black craft poof ball was sitting beside my hip.  He lost it.  Hysterical laughter ensued.  I said, "What's so funny?"  He held up the black poof ball.  I said, "Yes?"  He said, "It musta come out your fart!" 

h.i.l.a.r.i.o.u.s.