Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Is That a Walnut in Your Pocket?

So, Larry took the kids to the G-man's gymnastics class yesterday, while I took a conference call. (I don't understand the importance of conference calls. They feel like an old fashioned party line, but less interesting.)

Found myself cooking dinner while others droned on. Chopping onion and frying up hot Italian turkey sausage on the QT, with the phone on mute. And then it ended and Larry trooped in with both kids in tow, the G-man gloating and Sammie crying with great heaving sobs. Fake ones. Larry ordered her to her room and she stomped up the stairs.

What happened? As though I needed to ask. Sammie-boo's deadly charm is matched only by her defiance.

Larry: She wouldn't leave the library. She punched me right in the nuts.
Me: Yeah, well, what should I give them for dinner?
Garret: What does that mean?
Larry: Nothing.
Garret: Do you have nuts on your body?
Larry: Of course not. Forget it.
Me: Peanut butter? They can't have that. He had that for breakfast. Burrito?
Garret: But Samanfa punched you in a nuts. What's a nuts?
Larry: We have chicken nuggets.
Garret: Daddy! Where are your nuts?
Larry: No. No nuts. I had a walnut in my pocket. She punched that.
Garret: Really?
Me: Oh, yeah, Daddy, keep dancing.

OK. Then today, after school, Garret was playing a game of Sorry by himself. It keeps the cheating to a minimum if he plays all the parts at once. And I heard him say, "Oh, for the love of God" to one of the pieces on the board. He said it several times, trying out the intonation. I called Larry at work. What is the meaning of this?

Larry: I may have said that on the way to gymnastics yesterday.
Me: Uh-huh.
Larry: I got to start editing myself.
Me: Uh-huh.
Larry: Wait 'till he says Jesus Jumped Up Christ.
Me: Uh-huh. The first time he does that, you're dead.

1 comment:

Kevin said...

This reminds me of the time when Ann (my best friend) was pregnant. One day her husband was telling her that once the baby was born she would have to censor her speech (she swears like a sailor). She told him he was being ridiculous. Tom (the husband) said, "You talk to her Kevin." I began to make additional arguments in support of Tom's point.

She looked at us both and said coldly. "You are both so fucking full of shit."\

Neither of us could think of a response to that.