Dog Days of Summer Break

I’m boooorrred!!!

Go walk the dog.

But it’s too hot!!!

Fine. Read a book.

What is this, some kind of punishment?

Take a walk to the pool and go for a swim.

No. I don’t feel like getting wet.

Okay, then. Clean your room.

What?!? Why?

And that was only day three of summer break.

It’s hard to be a kid.

There’s never anything fun to do.

But somehow, all your friends are doing fun things.

Without you.

You know so.

Because it’s all right there on Snapchat.

And so the only plausible way to entertain yourself is to torment the dog.

I mean, teach the dog new tricks.

Like how to eat his doggie treat while pretending to be the civilized human being that he clearly is not.

At a table.

While sitting in a chair.

Because how could that be a bad idea?

Oh, right.

It’s gonna be a long summer…

Is this your idea of a good time? Seriously? Go back to school, you sadistic kids!

Is this your idea of a good time? Seriously? Go back to school, you sadistic kids!

~Happy Friday, friends! Isn’t summertime the best? Hope you all have a great weekend!~

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Go to Michigan!

Go to Hell!

Evidently, this simple three-word phrase is heavily frowned upon in some places.

Especially in Bible Belt country.

And especially when used by a child.

In school.

(Gasp!)

How do I know this?

Well, from recent experience, of course.

I honestly don’t believe that is, by any stretch of the imagination, the worst thing a person could possibly say.

At the same time, I also don’t personally go around telling all my friends to go to hell…

Plenty of people struggle to speak a single, coherent sentence without the added flair of numerous, strategically placed curse words.

I am not one of those people.

Yes, I do occasionally use such words here on my blog for comedic impact.

But not in my everyday conversations.

And certainly not when speaking to my kids.

My child-free brother, on the other hand, ironically tends to pepper his speech so heavily with curse words that nobody even seems to notice anymore.

Including him.

Or my kids.

It’s like our brains have been trained to filter through to register only the important information.

In fact, I asked my sons whether they ever notice their uncle cursing.

After careful consideration, they both answered at once:

No!

But then my older one paused for a brief moment before correcting himself.

Well, there was that one time, on Easter.

One time?

And on Easter, of all days?

Seriously?

But that was more a question of curiosity, on my part.

Besides, my poor Easter-cursing brother lives too far away to be all that big of an influence.

If anything, YouTube is by far the bigger offender of the two.

It’s paradoxically helpful and a bad influence, all at once.

Damn it, YouTube!

But anyway…

This past Monday, I received a somber phone call from the assistant principal informing me that my little darling would be spending the entire day in in-school suspension for this uncharacteristic transgression.

I had to marvel at the severity of the consequence.

And, of course, I also had to question how that statement had even come about in the first place.

Oh, that!

Yeah.  

So-and-so said “hi!” to me in a weird voice.

So I told him to “go to hell”!

Right.

Because I can’t imagine any other plausible way to respond to such an appalling greeting.

And the best part?

That’s actually the kid’s real voice.

And, the child seemed to find this response humorous enough to laugh.

Geez.

The joys of middle school.

The struggle of trying to figure out who you are.

The struggle of trying to discover where you belong.

The struggle of simply trying to fit in.

This, evidently, is where the smartypants humor kicks in.

Who doesn’t love the class clown?

I know I’m a sucker for humor.

If someone makes me laugh, they’re my friend for life.

There’s no escaping my friendship.

Ever.

That’s pretty much all there is to it.

At any rate, I had to attend a conference at school the next morning.

And I had to put on real pants before going, because it seemed like it would probably be a good day to do so.

Perhaps I should’ve worn my World’s Okayest Mom shirt, too, but I didn’t think about it beforehand.

At least I didn’t burst out in laughter at any point during the meeting.

But I wonder if I should’ve pointed out that Hell is also a place in Michigan, and so perhaps my child was merely recommending a vacation idea…?

Or perhaps not.

Oh, well.

At least this makes for good writing material, right?

So…

If Hell is a place in Michigan…

Is it okay to tell someone to go to Michigan?

Sigh.

On a side note, maybe we really ought to go to Hell…

Hell, Michigan, that is.

Hey, you have to admit, it does sound rather intriguing…

~Happy weekend, everyone! Hope you all have a heavenly break from it all!~

Go to Hell! I mean, Michigan. Yeah. Go to Michigan!

Go to Hell! I mean, Michigan. Yeah. Go to Michigan!

Apocalyptic Annoyance

Knock it off!

Make me!

You wanna go?!?

Sigh.

Some people get up and start the day with yoga and meditation.

But not us.

Oh, no.

We get up and start brawling.

It makes life so much more exciting.

Hey, no fair! He’s got more cereal than me!

Nuh uh! Why do you have more cereal than me?

Whack!

What was that for?

I wanted that book!

Well, I had it first!

Shut up!

No, you shut up!

I’m telling!

Not if I tell first!

Mom!!!!!

Mealtime has always been painful in this household.

One child eats only as a means of survival…

And even then, only by force.

Meanwhile, the other one “helps” clear his brother’s plate.

In the most annoying manner possible, of course.

Well…

Life is all about balance, I suppose.

Stop looking at me!

I’m not looking at you!

Knock it off, or I’ll lick you!

Mooooommmmm!!!!!

One boy reaches over and snatches a single piece of dry cereal out of his brother’s dish.

I need more food! He ate most of mine!

And so the flailing begins.

Between foot stomps and arm twists…

And pinches, punches, and pokes…

It’s little wonder I’m such a fan of finger foods.

No way am I encouraging the use of utensils if not absolutely necessary.

Fencing with forks?

Slapping with spoons?

Noogying with knives?

No, thank you.

Knock, knock!

Who’s there?

Boo.

Boo hoo?

Why are you crying?

Shut up!

No, you shut up!

Alrighty then.

I like trains!

You’re rude!

I like turtles!

And rotten!

Cheese! Cheese! Cheese!

And you’re annoying!

I swear, sometimes I can’t help but marvel at how I’m the most normal person in the room.

Yeah? Well, you’re mean!

No, you’re mean!

I like cheese with my squirrels,

I like squirrels with my cheese!

OMG! Why are you being so annoying?

Smell my feet! SMELL them!

You wanna go?!?

And so ended breakfast…

~Happy Friday, everyone! Hope you’ve had a great week! Enjoy your weekend, and try to stay out of trouble. Well, maybe a little mischief won’t hurt…~

I'm fairly certain my child invented this impressively annoying catchphrase...

I’m fairly certain my child invented this impressively annoying catchphrase…

Two Romeos and a Mob of Juliets

Valentine’s Day may be a few days past, but testosterone is still in the air.

Did I say testosterone?

I meant to say, love.

Truly.

At any rate, my two boys have been in full-throttle paramour mode, with the unfettered spirit of Valentine’s Day lingering.

The younger one bashfully leaving anonymous gifts of stuffed animals and chocolate to a special someone before sprinting off in the opposite direction.

The older one brazenly standing outside, waiting for the bus, come hell or hypothermia.

One gifting with presents.

The other gifting with presence.

One shy.

One bold.

Very bold.

With his less-than-subtle, sudden need for fresh air on a rainy, 35-degree morning, it leaves little question to the motives of Romeo Number One.

Every day before and after school, this child stands outside at the bus stop.

Did I mention he doesn’t even ride the bus?

Let me tell ya, this boy has quite the collection of girls.

One minute, he’s going out for ice cream and a movie with one girl.

The next thing I know, he’s talking on the phone for hours…

With a different girl.

And then the next day, he’s eagerly waiting to escort yet another girl to/from the bus stop.

It’s good to have options, right?

Meanwhile, he avidly avoids Stalker Girl, who freaks the hell out of him with her steady stream of obsessively psychotic texts throughout the day.

But getting back to my sweet younger son.

Romeo Number 2 spent the day before Valentine’s Day freaking out over whether to get a card or gift for a certain girl that he thinks he likes.

Did I mention that she used to like him…

Back when he didn’t think he liked her very much?

That’s right.

She liked him first when he didn’t know if he liked her.

And now he likes her.

He thinks.

Which left him with a dilemma.

To buy a card or not to buy?

Or get a gift or give her nothing?

To tell, or not to tell?

Torn between craving the glorious attention…

Or hiding under his desk like a turtle retracting into its shell.

The joys of girl trouble and tween issues. 

It’s soooo complicated.

Both of my boys spend hours each morning in front of the mirror like mini Adonises, getting their hair just right…

All while protesting showers and forgetting to put on deodorant.

Ah, the sweetness of childhood amour.

Paired up with the joy of adolescence, it’s a sure recipe for…

Well…something.

Love?

Romance?

Stinky love?

As in Love Stinks, that song from The Wedding Singer?

Except I highly doubt Adam Sandler was singing about adolescent hygiene.

Teenage lust.

Isn’t it great?

Oh, but it gets better!

Romeo Number One will soon be trying out for School Mascot!

Which is technically part of the school’s Spirit Team.

Which means being part of the Cheerleading Squad.

As in, being the only guy among all those cheerleaders. 

Coincidence?

I think not.

Love is still in the air, and my two Romeos are on the loose.

Perhaps we ought to move to Utah and start a polygamist colony…

Love is still in the air...

Love is still in the air…