My children have been rather hilarious lately. I've been especially impressed by the very dry, sarcastic sense of humor being displayed by Brynning recently - wow. So I thought I'd share some things that made me laugh in the last few weeks.
First up, Iain, who made his first joke two weeks ago. And this isn't so much funny as just a chance to brag, so skip to the next paragraph if you don't like cute stories about other people's children. The older three monkeys are taking an art class one morning a week, and I sit in the studio with Iain and keep him out of stuff in the meanwhile. He discovered a shelf full of gallon jugs of acrylic paint, and I figured it wouldn't hurt anything if he pulled them off and put them away a few times. I seized the opportunity to begin teaching him his colors. First he pulled the blue jug off and I dutifully announced "Blue!" Next was yellow, which I also labelled for him. After a few times I asked him "Which one is blue?" and he picked up the yellow jug, announced "LOO!", and laughed. I replied "No, silly, that's Yellow!", whereupon he picked up the blue jug and proclaimed "LE-LO" before laughing delightedly.
So, Brynning. Yesterday I finished up a long day by doctoring a puncture wound in Audrey's foot before sitting down and hauling through a scientific paper that I promised to edit for a friend. Sometime around suppertime I announced that I was pretty certain I deserved a super-hero cape and leotard, and was sternly informed "Yes, you can wear that...into the bathroom, and then lock the door until you change into something else." I thought I had another year or two before he was old enough to be embarrassed by his own mother.
And speaking of my sons, Benjamin and Brynning had the most fascinating conversation with me in the car two days ago, that was just such a perfect illustration of the difference between my two oldest boys. We were driving down the main road when a guy pulled up next to us on a fancy motorcycle. Brynning announced "That's what I want!" "Those kinds of motorcycles are called Crotch Rockets" I informed him (not without wondering if I would regret having dispensed that particular piece of information). "Oh," he replied, "never mind. I thought it was a scooter." Simultaneously, Benjamin cried with delight "YES! That's what I want! A CROCK POT!"
When I stopped laughing enough to re-enunciate the title (No, dear, it's a crotch rocket.) he tried again. "Oh, that's what I meant. A Crock Pocket." Regardless, he is all about fast, and dangerous. Oh, mercy!