Some of the conversations I have with my kids leave me scrambling for a scrap of paper to scribble them down. I don’t ever want to forget them. Some, I try to block out. And, some are ones that end with my questioning what planet I’m on.
The car is the best place to hear my kids talk. And among my favorite chauffering duties is driving Haddie and her besties around. The three of them (6,7, and 8) can be downright hilarious.
A while ago, I got a bit lost and had to turn the car around in the cul-de-sac. The senior reader in the group instantly pointed out the “No Outlet” sign. Haddie looked stunned. “What’s that mean?” she asked.
“Oh. It’s simple,” her friend was matter-of-fact.
“It means that all those people on that street…well if their iPods or iPhones or iPads die, they can never charge them.”
Haddie looked horrified. “What do they do??”
Middle friend finally speaks without looking up from her bag of Goldfish. “I guess they just go buy new ones.”
Note to self: Kids these days are too tech obsessed…and spoiled.
Sam comes loafing down the steps. He has one shoe on and is kicking the other down the steps. It’s just too hard to pick it up or better yet, put it on his barefoot.
He sighs loudly. His buddy is close behind.
“Hey Mom, know how AL has a concussion and can’t board or bike or play football or anything?”
I dry my tears of sympathy and look at them. They know whatever it is the answer will likely be “No.” He talks fast and is shameless in his butt-kissing.
“Well–um–err—we’re–doing this super cool thing in science and science is like doctor-y stuff right and um…we were wondering if we could like dissect something….”
Note to self: I’m scared.
My conversations with Maisy come in two varieties: the “i-feel-dumb-what-the-hell-is-she-saying” kind and the “that-was-the-longest-three-minutes-of-awkward-silence-ever” kind.
Classic Cell Phone Conversation–I call (I’m always the one that calls unless there is a last minute outing or adventure she has to beg for at 4pm on a Friday. I have excused myself from many patients only to londly whisper things like: “No, Maisy. You are not going to have a cake decorating party with five friends right now.”)
Me: “Hi honey! How was your day?”
Me: “How was school?”
Me: I said “How was school–the place you just spent the last 8 hours. What did you do?”
looooooooong pause #2
Me: “Did daddy see my note about dinner with Grandma and Grandpa?”
Me: “Doesn’t Fiorello’s sound fun? Maybe we could grab some gelato at that little place after….”
M: “yeah sure Mom….sound’s like a blast (her tone is one of a person reading the tax code–she does not think it sound’s like a blast.)
Me: OK then. Love you.
M: bye mom….click. (No, the “love you too” was not even implied.)
Classic Car Conversation
M[fiddles with radio]: She listens for a second, croons loudly for 5 seconds then, exasperated, changes the station. Finally she settles on one.
“ooooh this is a great song. It’s by this cool band—Panic at the Disco–you would hate them…..the lead singer used to be in Neon Elephants…they broke up after 11 years. I was so sad. I downloaded that album–it kind of is not as good as their first one but….and Mom know what I really wanna do? I wanna have an apple picking party. You know I invite a bunch of girls over and we pick apples and stuff. Ohhhh and know what happened today? I saw THREE girls wearing the EXACT same shirt???? So ridiculous…it’s like they don’t even have an identity. Hey that’s a cool VW. Know what? I wanna get a VW bus someday for my car….OH.MY.GOD. I hate this song….it so want’s to be country…and it’s not. I mean the lead singer of Train is NOT a country singer….UNBELIEVABLE.”
M[arrived at destination]: “Bye Mom.”
Note to self: Just take up talking to myself.
Tell me about your conversations with kids.