Some Days You Just Have To Take Your Laughs Where You Can Find Them

“Just in case it’s not abundantly obvious,” I announced to L’s Mother yesterday, “there’s no way I’m going to be able to install the battery in the car tomorrow.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because I already did it,” I answered with a chuckle.

Turns Out She DID Know What It Was (And I’ll Tell YOU Tomorrow)

“Something I ordered for you a while back finally arrived,” I told L’s Mother last night. “To be honest, I’m not sure you’re going to know what it is at first, but I know you’ll think it’s cool.”

A few moments later after she’d seen what it was:

“You GOT one?! ?!You GOT one!? !!?YOU GOT ONE?!!”

It Really Is

“I’m not happy with you,” I told our dog, Isa, last night after she had been especially obnoxious while the rest of us ate dinner. (She eats after we do because if she eats before we do, she’s still incorrigibly obnoxious and is dramatically less inclined to behave because the treat I give her after our dinner if she does behave is less appealing.) “But I’m still going to feed you, of course,” I added as I left the dinner table to prep her food.

Halfway to her bowl I paused to glance over my shoulder at the rest of the family, and slyly said, “It’s amazing how often I’ve had that thought in my life, you know.”

And I Still Smell Faintly Of Our Fuel To Prove It

By popular demand, we had another series of launches (some successful, some not) of our vinegar and baking soda powered rocket in honor of the scheduled launch of the James Webb Space Telescope tomorrow.

It Was The Really Blue Bag

The following is a paraphrased, but otherwise true, exchange:

Me: Which coffee did you want me to try again?

L’s Mother: The one in the blue bag.

Me: Do you mean [calls out name]?

L’s Mother: That’s not in a blue bag.

Me: *contemplating the blue bag with brown lettering in his hands* Okay, let me ask it this way: Is it the blue bag, the other blue bag, or the really blue bag?

When You’re Right, You’re Right, Son (Albeit For The Wrong Reason In This Case)

Today my son and I did several impromptu (but safely controlled) experiments with fire. Most notably, we discussed how wax provides the fuel in a burning candle, and we showed how a piece of twine is quickly consumed by fire when the twine itself is the only fuel.

My son’s reaction: “It’s a good thing my mom isn’t here while we’re doing this!” (Thinking that she might “freak out.”)

His mother’s reaction upon hearing of our experiments: “If I’d been here, I’d have soaked the twine in alcohol and shown how much faster the twine burns!”

Philosophical Conundrums – Tested!

Walk with me on this one. I hate being interrupted; I absolutely hate it!

You know some of the things you absolutely can not do unless you learn to cope with things like interruptions? The top three that come immediately to my mind are: be in a relationship, start a family, and raise a child.

You really want to know the answer to what happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object?

They adapt!

Saying This Got Me High-Fived

Last night L’s Mother’s dinner experiment didn’t go well. All of us, and especially L’s Mother, agreed this one was a “meh.”

“I have the ingredients to make more,” she told me without enthusiasm, “but I know you’re not exactly dying to eat this again.”

“Let me put it this way,” I replied. “While killing someone would be excessive, I would gleefully stub someone else’s toe to never have to eat that again.”

Because Like I Said, I KNOW How Things Work Around Here

I have since found out that the aforementioned “worm slingshot” incident involved a stretchable toy worm and stretching it out to “slingshot” it across the room. Apparently both L. and his mother were unprepared for the amount of force this generated, but were fortunate enough to not hit anything breakable.

And, yes, L’s Mother was indeed the instigator.

I Know How Things Work Around Here

“This may have been as bad an idea as the worm slingshot,” my son announced this morning.

No, I had no idea what the “worm slingshot” was, but certain probabilities crystalized for me when his mother grinningly said, “We weren’t going to tell your dad about that, remember?”

Turning to L’s Mother, I looked at her with play accusation and asked, “What did you do?”