And then he threw up all over the couch.

“Hey Ian!” said the older boy. “You know how squirrels eat nuts?”

Because I think like a nine year old boy I could see where this was going a mile away.

He continued “Ahhh! Squirrels are after my nuts! They are in my pants!”

Ian laughed, but he was clueless and the older kid knew it.

“Get it? Because I have nuts in my pants!”

Ian asked “Why do you have nuts in your pants?”

“Because your nut is your penis!” neighbor boy replied.

I had a conundrum. Your nuts are not your penis and I know this. I don’t want my kids to go around with bad information or making jokes that don’t make sense. On the other hand, I don’t really want to talk about scrotums with a random 3rd grader. I am friends with his parents, but I don’t really talk to them about testicles that often so I don’t know how they would feel about me giving their children lessons about anatomy and slang.

I am not a patient woman, but I bode my time. I was a relatively mature adult and I waited until we got home and I was alone with my children.

“Listen guys,” I said “Remember when Jack said that your nut was your penis? That isn’t exactly true.”

I said penis. I had their attention.

“Your nuts are really your scrotum,”

*blank looks*

“your testicles”

*blank looks*

“the thing under your penis. You know what I am talking about?”

Claudia said yes and walked away.

Ian said “Under my penis?”

I was always under the impression that boys were obsessed with their balls, but here is my son, almost six years old and he forgot that there was something under his penis.

I said “Yeah, the thing under your penis.”

Then I actually said “Put your hand in your pants and feel under your penis.”

He figured it out. I am an excellent mother.

So far there has been no further discussion of the nuts, but I have a feeling that this is nowhere near over.

And oddly, I feel like I did the right thing.

Just to prove my point about my life being funny I got this text message from my husband less than five hours later:

While yes, I would like to take credit for presenting things in a funny way, the truth is that my family is hysterical, my friends are hilarious and I see humor all over the place.

There is actually more about the panel, Why Women are so 2.0, here if you are interested.

Since they started Kindergarten I have been sort of neglectful. Their teacher have been doing a great job and they have both been making huge leaps in reading and writing.

Since the weather gods have clearly decided that my children are to be home schooled this month I decided to pull out the HOP box and see how much progress the twins have make in Kindergarten.

It turns out that they are reading really well. They have got the three letter words down pat and they are getting better with sight words (you know, she, what, is, the, etc.) and they are even doing well with the stories.

Then the little book threw us a curve ball.

Or should I say passed us a curve ball?

The sentence was “Tim can pass.”

Ian got the “Tim” and he got the “can’” and then he got stuck.

I said “Sound it out.”

“Paws? Paz? Pahs?”

Against my better judgment I did what I knew would help him.

“What sound does A-S-S make?”

*blank stare*

“What word have I been telling you that you weren’t allowed to spell anymore all week?”

“ASS! PASS!”

He read the word, followed by hysterical laughter and saying the word ass over and over and over until I threatened him with a nap.

And there you have it. The mother of the year award, bring it to me.

Oh yeah, that is his thumb.

Actual Father Not Shown

I said “Are you making liberty spikes?”

He said “What is a liberty spike?”

I explained to him what a liberty spikes were and what a mohawk was.

“You know your Dad used to have a mohawk. A purple one.”

“No he didn’t. He had a purple head?”

“No, honey, just his hair was purple. His head was regular color. He used to have a nose ring too.” I said. ” A Bull Ring, like this” and I demonstrated what a bull ring looks like.

And my five year old son said “That is so old fashioned.”

Welcome to 2010 people. We are old now.

They usually only do this when it is the last sound in a word, so stuff becomes stuth, or enough becomes enuth.

It is almost some sort of reversed cockney, but I honestly don’t believe that my five year olds are clever enough to invent their own dialect.

I don’t think they even know what a dialect is. I’m almost certain that they don’t know what Cockney sounds like.

I sort of want to ask their kindergarten teachers if the other kids are doing this too but I don’t want to sound like a lunatic.

I also don’t want to be one of those parents that pester the teachers. I’m sure we will have issues that require me to contact them for a better reason than this.

I’ve been laughing about it for three days.

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

He swears it says Jack.

Then I forgot all about it until Monday.

On Monday my doorbell rang and it was the UPS guy with a package. The package contained this:

The awesomest hat that ever was.

It has red horns and ear flaps and it is fleece on the inside. The strings that come down on the sides have pointy triangles at the ends so they look like devil tails.

I love this hat.

Sure I look like a maniac when I wear it in public, but this way nobody ever bothers me.

There is just one problem.

My son is terrified of this hat.

I blame the puppet devil.

I honestly don’t know how the son of an Atheist mother comes to fear the devil so much. I have always thought that a huge part of the problem with organized religion was that some of it is so scary -  you know, like smiting and plagues and eternal hellfire and whatnot.

But Ian is scared of the devil and he doesn’t want me to wear my hat at all.

Clearly, I just wear it when he is not around, but I feel bad for him.

I tried to explain that it was just Mommy in a hat with horns, I was not the puppet devil or any devil for that matter but it didn’t really make him feel any better.

It isn’t just this either. The other day he was crying because I was singing “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” and somehow he translated that into me saying the sun was going to blow up and so he couldn’t sleep.

We try to tell Ian not to worry about stuff like this. I assume if the sun exploded we would probably all die so quickly that it wouldn’t matter, but I tell him that if the sun was going to explode the scientists would already know about it and they are watching it and it isn’t going to explode any time soon, plus it is a huge ball of burning gasses already and so it couldn’t possible explode.

I have no idea what is actually true. I just don’t want him to be afraid anymore.

How do you quell irrational fears in a five year old? Hell, how do I stop the rational ones?

I’m still going to wear my hat, just not in front of my son.

I thought he was probably taking a break, but maybe he had spies.

Ian said he knew exactly who the spies were.

All I can think of is Pennywise, Troll, AND a really freaking scary elf just waiting in the duct work.

And our schools are canceled for the rest of the year.

To be completely fair, the kids really only had two and a half days of school this week anyway, but they were three very important days for Christmas preparedness.

I’m not totally screwed here. We were almost on top of things except for S-T-O-C-K-I-N-G S-T-U-F-F.

Oh crap, my kids can spell now.

We are going a little stir crazy. These things have all happened in the past hour:

1) Ian punched me in the nose trying to hug me.

2) Claudia and I got into an argument about wearing jeans with no underwear. I said it would be uncomfortable she vehemently disagreed.

3) Ian called me into the bathroom because he pooped in the shape of a “C”.

I need to get out of the house.