For those of you who have children, and perhaps a few of you who do not, it is a thing of ceaseless wonder the random tidbits that fall out of their mouths. Programs like “Kids Say the Darndest Things” have capitalized on kids’ fumbling in the adult world of the spoken word. One of my favorite parts of parenting is observing this phenomenon. For example, my youngest son is convinced that a hooker is the device on the back of a tow truck (I’m never telling him otherwise, oh there isn’t a wreck we pass by that doesn’t elicit a chuckle or two from the front seat). As my oldest son has progressed from adorable toddler to adorable child, these choice little nuggets of confusion have come few and far between. As his naivety has dwindled he has begun to doubt my ultimate wisdom on all things true. In fact, he has even gone so far as to question my math skills (which are above par for the average elementary student, I would bet money on it).So, imagine my surprise when, during a routine ball toss in the front yard, the boy turns to me and asks if I know what a muff is. The conversation proceeded as follows:
Me: I certainly do! A better question is how you know.
Boy: I saw it on tv.
Me: [silently wondering how boy deciphered parental locks on tv] Oh yeah?
Boy: Football
Me: [silently figuring out why men are so obsessed with football] So, what is a muff?
Boy: It is when a punt is never in possession by its receiver (he then acts out scenario).
Me: [silently thanking parental control gods of Comcast (who are still greedy, unforgiven asses)]
I pondered this conversation for a few days then turned to my husband and asked him if he knew what a muff was. He gave me the I-thought-you-knew-me look until I rehashed the little instruction I had received. Unable to believe this neat little factoid, he googled (I would never google the word muff, really, honest to Comcast). He then explained the difference between a muff (hehe) and a fumble. This difference is predicated on the rules governing the retrieval of the ball after it has been muffed or fumbled. I then, with the seriousness that the situation called for, asked my husband if the player who retrieves the muff from the field could, by virtue of definition, be called a muff diver. I amused the hell out of myself, I really did. Football is now my favorite sport, tight-ends, endzones, wide receivers, muffs, sounds like a movie on Cinemax.
Meanwhile, back in Gotham: Last night was grocery night, oh the laughs, the tears. Anyhow, as husband was squirreling food away in the fridge, he came across a tray of uncooked meat well passed its prime. He tossed the nastiness in to the garbage while I made mental note to remove it to bin. Alas, I forgot. This morning I happened upon my beastly German Shepherd dog
munching away on a slab of rancid meat. I verbally reprimanded the nasty bastard, snatched meat away (with a paper towel mind you), and placed back in bin (oh you silly woman). I then proceed upstairs. Came down over-burdened with 200 lbs of dirty laundry to see dog gazing remorsefully at me over EMPTY meat tray. Thirty minutes later I am sponging rancid meat vomit off of the carpet while opportunistic Chihuahua
Me: I certainly do! A better question is how you know.
Boy: I saw it on tv.
Me: [silently wondering how boy deciphered parental locks on tv] Oh yeah?
Boy: Football
Me: [silently figuring out why men are so obsessed with football] So, what is a muff?
Boy: It is when a punt is never in possession by its receiver (he then acts out scenario).
Me: [silently thanking parental control gods of Comcast (who are still greedy, unforgiven asses)]
I pondered this conversation for a few days then turned to my husband and asked him if he knew what a muff was. He gave me the I-thought-you-knew-me look until I rehashed the little instruction I had received. Unable to believe this neat little factoid, he googled (I would never google the word muff, really, honest to Comcast). He then explained the difference between a muff (hehe) and a fumble. This difference is predicated on the rules governing the retrieval of the ball after it has been muffed or fumbled. I then, with the seriousness that the situation called for, asked my husband if the player who retrieves the muff from the field could, by virtue of definition, be called a muff diver. I amused the hell out of myself, I really did. Football is now my favorite sport, tight-ends, endzones, wide receivers, muffs, sounds like a movie on Cinemax.
Meanwhile, back in Gotham: Last night was grocery night, oh the laughs, the tears. Anyhow, as husband was squirreling food away in the fridge, he came across a tray of uncooked meat well passed its prime. He tossed the nastiness in to the garbage while I made mental note to remove it to bin. Alas, I forgot. This morning I happened upon my beastly German Shepherd dog
munching away on a slab of rancid meat. I verbally reprimanded the nasty bastard, snatched meat away (with a paper towel mind you), and placed back in bin (oh you silly woman). I then proceed upstairs. Came down over-burdened with 200 lbs of dirty laundry to see dog gazing remorsefully at me over EMPTY meat tray. Thirty minutes later I am sponging rancid meat vomit off of the carpet while opportunistic Chihuahua 
competes with me for dibs, getting a lick in here and there. As if that weren’t enough drama for a Monday, I undertook the task of cleaning out from under my bed. I know you are all thinking “you shamless slob of a woman, what are you twelve, still shoving things under your bed”? Well, just to let you know the only things I nudge under the bed are the occasional random shoe or slipper. What I have is a ferret.
This sneaky little devil has chosen the underside of my bed as its hording grounds. I found the following things:
7 bottles of water in various stages of empty
5 water bottle caps
5 tubes of martian matter
7 tubes of acrylic paint
1 bottle of spray Formula 409 (jeepers, this bottle is actually bigger than the ferret)
1 bottle of hand lotion
1 bottle of rash cream
1 tube anti-itch cream
1 container of holiday cookie sprinkles
1 bottle of after bath body spray
2 dryer sheets
1 G.I. Joes
3 Hotweel cars
1 tennis ball
I love my pets.
7 bottles of water in various stages of empty
5 water bottle caps
5 tubes of martian matter
7 tubes of acrylic paint
1 bottle of spray Formula 409 (jeepers, this bottle is actually bigger than the ferret)
1 bottle of hand lotion
1 bottle of rash cream
1 tube anti-itch cream
1 container of holiday cookie sprinkles
1 bottle of after bath body spray
2 dryer sheets
1 G.I. Joes
3 Hotweel cars
1 tennis ball
I love my pets.
Wow, I think the wee one's getting ready for the apocalypse or something.
ReplyDeleteOh, and that's a lot of muff out there. ;-)
The kid stuff reminds me of the time a young cousin of mine tried to impress a guest who was over for dinner,by asking him if he liked lesbian food! I'm sure you've connected the dots already and come up with the right word. Have you, have you? :D
OK, after neatl an hour of Blog-reading, that was my first LOL moment, scaring my kid! It reminds me to listen to question context before going into definitions!
ReplyDelete