Kid's Got a Point

Laurence has a couple of joke & riddle books that somehow have managed to make their way into my car time & time again, meaning that when we're going places I'm subjected to hearing the same jokes & riddles over and over and over again. It's become excrutiating. I've memorized a lot of them, of course, and the newest game has become me quickly and flawlessly answering riddles as soon as he asks them. "You are really good at these, Mommy!" he says each time in amazement. One of these days he'll catch on. Until then, though, I'll blurt, "It's hard to tell which witch is which!" to his question, "How can you tell one witch from another?" or "No, they only have giraffes!" to "Can giraffes have babies?" (one of my personal favorites, because of the giraffe thing).

Anyway, today, on the way to & from the grocery store, which is approximately 2 minutes from our house, we went thru several of the same old riddles. Suddenly Laurence stops and says, "Mom, you know that riddle 'Why did the chicken cross the road?'" "Yep," I said. "The answer is, 'to get to the other side.' Once someone hears that once, it's just not funny anymore." Before I could reply he says, "Actually, it's not even funny the first time you hear it." This time I blurt, "I couldn't agree more!" And he says, "You mean you're NOT going to argue with me?" Nope, I'm not. The kid has an excellent point. It's a really stupid riddle. I've thought so ever since I was five. And how nice to have something for us to agree on after the last couple of days we've had together. Perhaps riddle time isn't such a bad thing, after all.

My Texas Instruments Rooster

I hear it from other parents and know that I'm not alone when I say that my boys play with their own toys only on rare occasions. Instead, they are continuously fascinated with what is not theirs, and I'm forever finding objects such as kitchen utensils, rolls of tape (usually empty), and plastic storage bowls in very strange places. Loic has recently taken a liking to my calculator. I find it at least two or three times a day in various places around the house, and always return it to its drawer. Just the other morning he was at it again and came marching into the bathroom holding it and said, "Iddie play this!" (Iddie is his version of "Icky," our very affectionate and appropriate nickname for him.) "Sure," I said, "but what is it?" He got a puzzled look on his face, and I thought for a minute I had him stumped, but then I could see it -- the word on the tip of his tongue. His mouth started getting all twisty and a look of satisfaction came over his face, when after a few moments he proudly he states, "Cock-a-doodle-doo!"

Hello, Buckwheat!

The boys and I were leaving the grocery store this morning and a man walking toward us looked right at Laurence and said enthusiastically, "Hello, Buckwheat!" Laurence was actually speechless, but did flash back his pearly whites. As we got into the parking lot he says, "Mommy, why did that man say that?" I wasn't really sure, especially since Laurence's hair is looking especially tame today, but I said, "Oh, he was just being friendly & jolly." He thinks for a moment and says, "Well, just between you & me, Mommy, I don't really think it's nice to call someone a bucket of wheat. But I wasn't going to tell HIM that, so I just smiled and pretended it made me happy." Ah, one of life's most important lessons learned and put into play today.