Day Dreaming About Winning the Lottery

One of the state lotteries was up pretty high last week, so I wasted a few bucks on it.  Ed asked me to in front of the munchkins.  (They’re rapidly growing to tall to be called munchkins.  Dammit.)  The munchkins demanded information about what a lottery was and how much we would win and what we could do with said winnings.  Apparently, with a few million bucks, we could buy a country (I’m not sure which one, but apparently, they’re not too expensive), or we could found a new university (buildings are cheap too), or just one really large house (Logan has wanted a manor house since we started watching Downton Abbey, which is well worth a watch).

We didn’t win.

Are you surprised?

I’m not.  The boys were.  They accused me of losing on purpose, making puppies cry, dashing their aspirations of greatness, killing all of the rainbows in the world, and keeping them from owning their own Nerf field.  There were histrionics.  There were fake tears.

I have no idea where they get it.

Attempts at Playing Hooky

Logan was the first to try it this morning.

“Daddy,” he whined in his most pathetic voice.  “I don’t feel good.  My throat hurts.”

“Aww,” sympathized Ed.  “I bet you think you need to stay home from school too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said in that soft, raspy voice.  He clutched his neck for effect.

“Tough.  You’re going to school,” said his Daddy with an evil grin.

“I guess you just don’t care about your kids then, huh?” demanded Logan.  If he wasn’t going to get his way, he might as well throw a barb or two.

“Nope,” laughed Ed.  “I sure don’t.”

He walked out in a huff after his Daddy clearly bested him.

Ed continued getting ready for work and just a few minutes later, Trip walked in.  Trip took at moment to prepare his argument and make sure the proper, pathetic expression was on his face.

“Daddy,” he whined piteously.   “My stomach hurts.”

Clearly, he had not spoken with his brother about their morning tactics.  I should suggest a strategy meeting in the mornings before they try to pull the wool over their Daddy’s eyes.

“What’s the matter with it?”

“I don’t know.  It just hurts really bad.”

“That’s rough, boy.  I bet you need to stay home from school, don’t you?”

Trip’s eyes lit up, but he was able to catch himself before saying anything, weary of the trap his Daddy might be laying.  “Yes, I need to stay home from school.”

“Well, you know that means you’ll have to come up to the office with me and you’ll have to sleep on the couch all day, right?”

“What?”

“Yeah, if you’re too sick for school, then you’re too sick to watch television or play on your ipad or anything else.  You’ll have to lay on the couch and sleep.  If you can’t sleep, you’ll have to lay there and just stare at the ceiling.”

Trip started backing away slowly.  “I think I feel okay now.  I’m okay to go to school.”

“Are you sure, boy?  I wouldn’t want you to go to school sick.”

“No, I feel okay.  I’m going to school today.”

“Okay, well, go put on your shoes.”

“Okay, Daddy!”

That man I married is smart!

There Was Another Twin, Apparently

The boys regularly come up with some pretty wild stories.  This one concerns their origin.

“I know I had an identical twin, Mom,” starts one twin.  The twin who starts this diatribe varies.

“Yeah,” starts the other.  “Mom didn’t want identical twins.”

Um, I don’t recall voicing a preference at any time about the flavor of my munchkins.

“Yeah, Mom.  Where’s Edward?”

They’ve named their other twin.

“Mom traded Edward with another family who had twins for their twin.  I can’t believe you did that, Mom!  We want Edward back!”

“Yeah, Mom!  We want Edward back!”

Ed normally joins in.  “I can’t believe you did that!”

Never mind that one of them would have to go back.  Never mind that they look like each of their parents.  They want their other twin back.

The Birds and The Bees and Other Parenting Mistakes

Way back when the boys were tiny, I was of the opinion that they should use the anatomically correct terms for their body parts.  By the time they were 18 months old, they knew they had a penis.  I thought they were so cute!  I did not anticipate them a couple of years later asking about my penis.

“I don’t have a penis,” I told them.

“What do you have?” they asked.

“Not a penis,” I told them.

This parenting thing is hard.

Then they asked me where they had come from.  It’s a question all kids inevitably ask.

“You grew in my belly.”

“How did we get out?

“The doctor cut you out.”

This parenting thing is easy!  I’m so glad I had a C-section!

But what happens when you tell your cherubs that the doctor cut them out of your belly?  Their next logical question is “What did you feed us when we were in your belly?”

When you answer with something about blood and nutrient transfer, their eyes glaze over.  They come up with their own answer.

“You fed us your poop!”

“Um, no.  There was a nutrient transfer between my blood system and yours.”

“You’re making that up, Mom.  You fed us poop.  I’m smarter than my brother though, so I stopped eating the poop and that’s why my brother was bigger.”

“Why did you feed us poop, Mom!?!?!”

I was speechless.

Whenever they want to point out my parenting cruelty now, they start with, “You fed us poop in your belly!”

This parenting thing is hard!

They Have A New Goal

“Oh my gosh, mom!  I saw a green sparkle in your ring and I finally figured out what it means!”

That was what Logan said to me as Ed drove us to dinner.  (This going somewhere to eat a meal is a recurring theme in our lives.)  He meant my wedding ring.

“What?” I asked, because, really, who wouldn’t be confused by that?

“Your ring!  I finally figured out what it does!  It gives you super powers over Dad!”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, that’s why he can’t get away from you!”

It’s good to know that escape from me is the goal.

Photogenic Boys

Sometimes, silence is golden.  Sometimes, your twin brother needs a little hand around the neck to convince him that he need not speak.

Sometimes you just have to put your hand over your brother’s mouth to make him stop talking.  Other times, he needs a finger in his eye.  Maybe this time he’ll learn to look at the camera and smile when Mom points the camera at him!