I was helping Josh wind down for bedtime a few nights ago, and the following conversation ensued:
J: I still have one big question about Jesus.
C: Go ahead, shoot.
J: Well, it’s something I can’t quite figure out. If Jesus sent the asteroid to wipe out the dinosaurs, how long until he sends the asteroid to wipe us out? Continue reading
When Josh is getting ready for a school day, I can only imagine how he processes his to do list.
“Lets see, I have to
A. Bug Joe
B. Bug Amy
C. Bug Lauryn
D. Change underwear
E. Get dressed
F. Put on socks AND shoes
G. Brush teeth
Wow, that’s a lot. Time to prioritize. A-C are non-negotiables, but that’s going to leave me pressed. D is optional, so I’ll put that off til next week. I can manage to squeeze in E and F as long as I leave out the sock part. If I just run my toothbrush under the faucet, that might just leave me enough time for another round of A-C. This should work.”
I was sitting on the couch the other day with Josh, scratching his back.
“You have soft skin.”
“Do I have soft skin?”
(feels my arm.) “No, your skin is very rough.”
“What can I do about it?”
“Do what I do–take a lot of baths. I take, uh, . . . 3 baths a week. But DON’T use shampo0.”
“If I don’t use shampoo, what should I use?”
“Water and toys–that works for me.”
Hmm, that explains the ring around the tub. My theory is that the layer of dirt on him has an SPF rating of 100, which protects him from harmful UV damage. So I guess the motto is “bathe less, live longer.”
Apologies to the Gershwins, but I’m sure they had eating watermelons in mind when they wrote that song. Nothing beats eating it off the rind while the juice runs down your bare belly. Which, by the way, is why they’re eating their slices OUTSIDE.
I think Josh has the lead on Lauryn.
I called Josh in to supper the other night.
He was busy fighting invisible enemies with a three-foot dowel rod.
I called again.
He dropped the dowel rod, charged toward me, and struck a pose, holding plastic knives.
He then looked me in the eye and said, “that’s my signature move.”
The kids began the new school year a week ago, so we are getting settled into a routine of sorts. We now have two middle-schoolers (6th and 7th) and two in elementary (1st and 2nd), so we have consolidated the number of car lines we wait in (hallelujah to not giving in to road rage trying to beat the tardy bell).
Some of the best debriefing occurs in the car, I find. When I asked Josh how his day went recently, he replied,
“Have you made any new friends?”
“Yes, I played with [ambiguous name] at recess.”
“Is [ambiguous name] a boy or girl?”
“She’s a girl. We played chase.”
“So you chased each other around the playground.”
“No, she chased me. She chased me the whole recess, and she didn’t even get tired. I guess girls are good at chasing.”
I smiled and said nothing.
More bedtime wisdom from the sage:
JOSH: Dad, have you seen my brain?
DAD: Nooo (wondering where this is headed).
JOSH: Cause it’s not in my head.
DAD: OK . . .
JOSH: Well, if you see it around the house, would you let me know?
DAD: Sure thing.
JOSH: Oh and, by the way, I have TWO brains: one for dinosaurs and one for the other stuff.