“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.

1) “fancy getup”

Wylie Dufrense

2) Wylie Dufrense

3) “a-s-s”

He was just spelling it over and over. I have no idea why. I mean, I know why, I just don’t know why he wouldn’t stop. We also had to ask him to stop signing it.

4) Obi-Wan Kenobi

5) diarrhea

[photo]

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.

Strange? Yes, until the guy giving the presentation told her it was a picture from the BlogHer conference last summer.

You know what is even stranger than that?

While we were having that conversation our children were making robots and snowmen out of paper and drawing butts on them.

Ian calls this work Snowman with a Booty.

Front
(left)

Back
(right)

Classy.

(all over)

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.

* * *
The irony is that neither can read or write very well, but they are already using social media of sorts. They are calling it “Chat Room”. The apples don’t fall very far from the tree.

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.

Yes, I am talking about my five year olds and no, I have no idea what I was thinking.

I realize you are expecting me to say that they ordered a years worth of Highlights magazines (because those people call me three times a week. I wish that was an exaggeration.) or that someone called 911 but that isn’t what happened.

What happened was that before I got done conditioning my hair I could hear the screaming through the closed bathroom door.

They were fighting over who got to answer the phone.

But it never actually rang.

They have been fighting like crazy for days now. I think my children need school just to have time apart.

I’m getting out of the shower and I have both children in the bathroom screaming and crying and Ian is clutching the telephone.

I tell them that they can take turns answering the phone.

Claudia says that will never work because two people won’t call.

I say I can arrange to have people call.

This is true, but Claudia screams that it isn’t true and her brother ruined her life and this was the worst day ever EVER EVER!

And I am trying to get out of the bathroom in a towel and it is cold and my clothes are on the other side of that little banshee and I ended up doing something that I am not at all proud of.

I invoked Santa Claus.

I said “If you want a stocking full of coal you just keep this up because Santa can hear you.”

I know. I am a terrible person and a liar.

So Claudia stops screaming. Not because she gives a rats ass what I think about Santa but because something entirely different.

She smirks and says “Santa can’t see you when you are pooping.”

I say “Well sure he can. I don’t know why he would want to, but he probably can.”

Then she says “He would see your butt!”

Then peals of laughter as both kids are overcome with the giggles.

Because of butts.

And Santa.

So they stopped fighting for five minutes.

But then the phone rang.

I will never make it to 2010 at this rate.

My car almost gets stuck in the snow.

There is this hill by our neighborhood pool. At the top of the hill there are tennis courts. At the bottom of the hill is the parking lot. This hill must be 45 feet wide and 15 feet up. There are stairs leading up to the tennis court area on the left.

I take one picture. This one.

Ian takes his first run down the hill he immediately flips over and hits his head on the stairs.

Did I mention this hill is about 45 feet wide?

Claudia is next. She goes for it. She is doing well until she hits the ice ramp at the bottom that some big kids must have built yesterday.

She flies in the air and lands squarely on her tailbone.

She cries for 10 minutes so we get in the car and drive home where she continues to cry for another 15 minutes.

I call the nurse at the pediatrician’s office.

I say:

Hi. My daughter was sledding and she took the ice ramp and landed on her back and she is complaining that it hurts. She can walk and I can’t see anything but she has been crying for 25 minutes. Do I need to have her looked at?

The nurse says:

Spinal injuries are very serious! Take her to urgent care to have an x-ray!

I freak out.

I call my mother-in-law.

Sledding went poorly. I have to take Claudia to the emergency room to get x-rays! Spinal injury! Can you please help with Ian?

She says she’ll be right over.

I come to my senses.

I call the nurse back.

Hi. I just talked to you about my daughter and you said I need to get x-rays and that spinal injuries were serious but is there any way I can come into the office to have her seen?

Five minutes later I have an appointment in 25 minutes at the pediatrician’s office.

I call my mother-in-law and tell her I just have to take the boy with me because we don’t have much time but we will be fine.

Claudia is still whimpering and saying It hurts. It really hurts.

Ian starts crying because he doesn’t feel like going to the doctor’s office.

And I am starting to freak out again.

We somehow make it to the pediatrician with two or three minutes to spare.

Then we wait for 45 minutes.

Minutes 1 – 5: Claudia cries the entire time.

Minutes 6 – 15: Claudia whimpers.

Minutes 16 – 20: Ian begins to go nuts on the baby toys in the waiting room. Claudia starts to wander around holding her back.

Minutes 21 – 30: The kids play with the baby toys. Claudia holds her back on and off.

Minutes 31 – 38: Both kids ask me: When is it our turn? When are they going to call us? Why did those other people get to go first? Is it our turn now? I’m thirsty can I have some water? Where is the drinking fountain? When is it going to be our turn?

Minute 39: They finally call us back.

Minutes 40 – 45: Both kids jump and dance around the examination room.

Minute 45: The doctor comes in checks out her back. Says everything is fine.

We give them $20 and get in a big argument about if we should stop at McDonald’s or Wendy’s on the way home.

Sledding blows.