Oh, boys

Last night I was at a planning meeting for my oldest son who is graduating from 8th grade. We were nearly done finalizing the details and I was getting ready to leave for home when my phone rang. It was my oldest.

Mom?

Yes.

Do we have any ice cream?

Uh, I don't know. Did you look in the freezer?

Yes.

Did you look in the garage freezer?

Yes.

Did you find any?

No.

Then there is no ice cream.


This boy is graduating from 8th grade. He is very bright, and has a good deal of common sense which is why his phone call left me scratching my head.

We repeated the conversation this morning, in person, almost verbatim, substituting the word ice cream for waffles. Does he think that I play hide the food? Or maybe he thinks that I keep a secret stash of ice cream and waffles in my underwear drawer.


A lunch conversation:

...so then he jumped the bike over the double and bailed before he hit the ground. It was so funny, mom, I was laughing so hard I peed myself a little.

Well, peeing yourself a little is funny when you are 11. Doing it when you are almost 40? Not so much.

Ew. Mom!


I'm the gross one? Boys.