Jack Funnies

I know. It's time for a new post. I'm sure you all check my blog at least two or three times a day anticipating the next dose of literary genius, and frankly, I'm sick of seeing my face pop up every time I log on. Melissa even e-mailed me wondering if I had fallen off the planet or something. So Melissa, this one's for you. Thanks for caring.

Now I don't have to think about what to write about, because this one's been giving me giggles every time I think about it for about a week now. Jack. He's a three year old mischief-making master of funny stuff that forms in his brain and spills out of his mouth. I know he doesn't come up with all of it all on his own; I'm sure he gets subtle cues from the rest of his family, including me. Have you ever been in need of a clean shirt for your child to wear, and you're not sure if the one on the floor was actually worn or just fell off the hanger and got kicked aside? Well, what do you do? You smell it. You take a good, long whiff to see if you can detect that unmistakable scent of kid-sweat, or the lingering fragrance of detergent. Anyways, I was getting Jack dressed and we were in a hurry to get out the door. He chose THAT day to decide he didn't want to put on clean underwear. He was wearing his most favorite pair of Spiderman big-boys with the red waist-band, and he didn't want the grey Buzz Lightyears. Or the blue Bob the Builders. Or the Black Scooby-Doos. I argued with him for a minute or two, then I started to get put-out. Finally, he pulled off his Spidermans, thrust them at me, and in a desperate, pleading voice, said "They're clean, mom! Just smell em'! Just smell em'!" I about choked when I looked down at those unders he held just under my nose and realized that his tightees were not so whitee on the inside. Another mark of childhood, the tell-tale skidmark, was plainly evident. Needless to say, I was not about to smell em'. After a bit of bribery (don't judge me, people) I got him into the grey Buzz Lightyears and out of the door. We also had a little talk about how the sniff test is just for shirts.


Within this same week, Jack gave me another good laugh. We were at Barry's having dinner with our cousin Alysha, and Jack would not eat his grilled cheese sandwich that he had insisted so strongly upon. He started begging me for a quarter (rather loudly) so he could get a gumball. I told him No because he hadn't eaten his dinner. He didn't like that answer, and persisted in asking me a half a dozen more times if he could PLEASE have a quarter. I, trying to be a good, responsible mother, told him he could NOT have a quarter unless he ate his dinner. He then stood up on the bench and in his loudest voice asked, "Does anyone here have a quarter?" The guy sitting in the booth behind us about choked on his hamburger laughing, as well as the rest of the restaurant. I'm sure they all would have given that cute little angelic looking boy a quarter, except they'd heard his poor, embarrassed mother tell him No because he hadn't eaten his dinner.


Morale of the stories, if you take your kids out in public, they will embarrass you. Also, buy at least five pairs of their favorite kind of underwear.