Monday, July 28, 2014

grammy fails

Life has been so busy for many months for me that I often feel as though I am in a whirlwind.  Just about the time I feel like my brain is going to explode, I receive a dose of kid wisdom.  It doesn't hurt that this kid wisdom also makes me laugh most of the time.

This weekend the twins were coming, arriving Friday while I was at work.  Usually all 4 grand kids land on me at the same time. This time it was just the twins, with an occasional cameo appearance from John, who prefers his mommy's house (next door) to my house.  (Can't say I blame him for that.)

I prepared for their arrival by doing the most important thing.  I made my bed.  Don't wonder at my reasoning, it is sound.  The kids often take a break on my bed to watch a few cartoons during the weekend, between forays outside to play.  This means they slide under the covers, even in 90F heat, and I sleep in the dirt and sand they drag in and deposit there during the day.


I got a text from Steve later that day:
I asked Dunc why he had lied to Gramps that afternoon about making the bed.  His reply was "well I straightened it up a little after I laid on the bed, and THAT counts too."  Hard to argue with that kind of logic.

Maddie asked me to keep her busy this weekend and I took her at her word.  I don't think this qualifies as child labor:


photo by Dunc's mommy, Jen
Last night we were talking about school beginning for the twins soon and I told Duncan that I would be starting to school about the same time he did.  His response was:
"Did you fail a grade?'

I told him yes (evil Grammy surfacing instantly).  His next comment, without missing a stroke, was:
"What grade did you fail?"

At that point I could not continue the joke, knowing it would just backfire on me, so I told him I had been lucky, and was going to get to learn to treat wounds, and would be able to take a test and get a piece of paper soon that would say I was certified to do it.  He just nodded absently and wandered off. Wounds aren't that interesting after all, unless there is blood.



...life is good. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

Thursday, June 5, 2014

slapping john

John has been sick.  He is the youngest grandson, a 4 year old trying to mix in with the world of his 9 year old cousins.  They don't always have patience with him, and being the youngest, he gets shoved aside sometimes when they are tired of him.

John had a flush on his face yesterday, cheeks so red that his mom took him to the doctor.  The red cheeks were caused by Fifth disease, also known as Slap disease, for the obvious reasons.

Gramps walked into the living room later that day and saw the three oldest sitting quietly on the couch, watching television.  He threw his hands on his hips and said in the booming voice he uses when he means no nonsense:

"John has Slap disease.  I want to know... who's been slapping John?!"

He said all three of their mouths dropped open in shock, like baby birds in a nest, as they loudly started protesting their innocence.

He was doubled over in laughter, telling me about it.

Sometimes, Gramps can be as evil as Grammy is.

...life is good. ~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter