Ben: “You HAVE to go to Bogies tonight!”
Sarah: “Umm, what is that and why?”
Ben: “It’s a club in Ogden that’s giving away a free boob job tonight.”
Sarah: “What are you trying to say Ben?”
Ben: “Nothing! You’re the one who wants it, and free is free.”
Sarah: “But is driving to Ogden really worth boobs?”
Ben: “Not even close.”
Sarah: “Okay, well thanks for thinking of my tits.”
Ben: “Eww. I gotta go.”
Yesterday afternoon I picked the kids up at school and was headed home when my random iPod mix started playing Richard Cheese singing “Baby Got Back.” Naively, I didn’t bother changing it because the kids were talking and I didn’t think they’d even notice. They did, and LOVED it! And really, why wouldn’t they, the song says butt repeatedly–which is apparently a bad word. They insisted on listening to it over and over–always on a quest to be the “fun auntie” I let them.
Once we were inside Target I realized what a bad idea it had been. I was looking at jackets and they were singing lyrics about asses, which wasn’t exactly a big hit with those Utah County mothers. For a moment I thought about pretending they weren’t with me, but once Hannah started shaking her butt and singing I didn’t have the heart to. Instead I scooped her up, gave her a kiss and told her she was the best dancer I’d ever seen. And it was the truth.
This morning I was two hours late for work. I didn’t factor in three and a half year old time. Seriously, these kids have major attitude. Don’t get me wrong, I love that about them, but when you’re trying to hurry and they aren’t… well you know.
I spent at least ten minutes arguing with Hannah why she can’t have chips for breakfast. She, of course, insisted her mom lets her eat them for breakfast every single day, which, she obviously doesn’t. I tried giving her the whole nutritional value speech, but she wasn’t having any of that.
So what did I do? I gave up. I took a Dorito, broke it into pieces and tossed it on top of her oatmeal. And guess what? She ate it. In a way we both won, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
My brother and sister-in-law are out of town so I’m staying with the twins this week. I’m fully aware of just what an awesome sister I am. Are they?
While the kids were finding their blankets, dolls, and special pillows they apparently can’t sleep without, I changed into my pj’s. When I walked out Carter looked up at me in disdain and asked, “What are those?” I replied, “These are my pajamas, Buddy.” He looked confused for a moment and blurted out, “But, that’s boy underwear… and yellow with crocodiles, not pink.”
He was less than pleased at the idea of his auntie wearing something other than pink. You can’t really explain to a child that there’s nothing more comfortable to sleep in than a pair of boxers stolen from an ex-boyfriend. Hannah, on the other hand, took one look at me and said, “I like your underwear and I’m not scared of them.”
It’s nice to have underwear approval from a three-year-old. Now if I could find an adult male who felt the same way.
Ben: “What are you up to?”
Sarah: “Meeting Jess at the park to go running. Why, what’s up?”
Ben: “I’m sorry; I must have dialed the wrong number. Why are you running?”
Sarah: “I decided to train and run a few races. I need more incentive than the dumb gym can provide to get into shape.”
Ben: “Really? That’s so cool. I’ll run a race with you.”
Sarah: “That would be awesome!”
Ben: “And because I love you I won’t even train for it. That way you can keep up with me.”
Sarah: “And because I love you, I won’t call you a jerk right now.”
