Boys? Boys I’ve got my down in spades. I know how these little buggers tick, and I’m a good mom to my boys- I’m fairly confident. Case in point: The other day, we were all in the car driving home from school, and Jeffrey was talking about some friends of ours. They happen to have a mom who is textbook wonderful- she is June Cleaver personified- and we love her.
Jeff looks at me and says “Mom, Sister T would never forget to buy hamburger buns, and she makes treats for Family Night, and she folds socks.”
Hmmm…. I look cockeyed at him in the passenger seat next to me. “Well, yeah, she’s pretty awesome, isn’t she?” I toss this off without a trace of malice, because really, Sister T is that cool. I never fold socks.
Leaning far over the center console, Jeff screws his face up and has a wicked twinkle in his eye. “Yeah, but I’m glad you’re my mom. You’re good at lots of stuff and we laugh a lot.”
From the backseat, Bean, who has been listening but pretending not to, lets out a huge belch and dissolves into a fit of wild giggles. “I like mom because she doesn’t wash my mouth out when I say CRAP!”
Jeff, immediately, pipes up “Mom! I want to say CRAP!”
I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s not working. Even Abby is giggling, and I give up. “Okay, eveyrone- all at once- just this once- I’m cutting you some slack; everyone yell CRAP together. One… Two… Three.. NOW.”
Everyone in the car yelled and screamed the pseudo swear-word in unison, including me.- and then we all laughed until we had tears on our pink mirthful cheeks. I don’t know about you, but that was better than soap in the mouth any day… and it might even be better than folded socks.