Sometimes You're Better Off Not Knowing

The other day as I was doing something very important (I'm sure) in the kitchen, I overheard the boys playing with their new Nerf sword:

"I almost neutered you!"
"Shut up old man!"

I briefly wondered what they were playing, then decided I was better off not knowing.

Quack!

Electric Frosting and Mortal Peril

For my boys, as with all boys I'm sure, while playing, anything and everything is a weapon, from cardboard wrapping paper tubes, to folded up paper, to food, stuffed animals, LEGOs, you name it. Just about anything, with a little imagination can be a weapon. It's quite entertaining.

I remember fondly the days when White Kitty would shoot electric frosting.

And it's not only toys-as-weapons, it's the entire thought process - pirates and bad guys, lava and avalanches, tornadoes, wars, battles, monsters, dragons, evil sisters and on and on and on.

Just the other day one of the boys was singing a Christmas carol. I heard from the down the hall, ringing with youthful exuberance, the dulcet, tenor tones of

"Here we are in mortal peril, Fa la la la la la la la la"

I explained that it was supposed to be "Don we now our gay apparel" and explained what 'don', 'gay' and 'apparel' were.

He listened carefully, nodded sagely, then raced away with his sword in hand singing, "Here we are in mortal peril, fa la la la la la la la la". Apparently, his version is better.

 Quack!

Messing Up Mom's Toys

 So we had a long weekend due to the good ol' fourth of July. Aaah. Time to relax and slack off. And I did. With gusto. Now don't get me wrong. I didn't completely turn into a sack of laziness, lounging on the couch, eating bon bons and watching TV. In fact, I don't think I actively watched TV at all (and 'actively watched TV' is quite the oxymoron. 'Actively watched TV' means sitting still doing nothing but watching TV. Which I almost never do. When I watch TV I'm almost guaranteed to be doing something else as I keep an eye on the boob tube - like reading, baking, cleaning, etc. )

But I digress. Back to the topic. I did slack off. But just the right amount. My slacking off consisted of a workout each of my three days off, the creation of several desserts, quite a bit of eating, and one of the most fun things - playing with dominos with the kids. This usually involved me sprawled out on the floor yelling at the cat to stay away as I carefully arranged lines of dominos in intricate patterns on the kitchen floor. It also involved a lot of gasping, some "Watch out!ing and a little bit of "holy crap!ing. Like this:

Kids: Mom! Mom! Make another one.
Me: Oh, OK. You twisted my arm. I'll do one more.

I'd settle down, sprawled with my legs and arms in all directions, my hair hanging down, arranging dominos. The kids would proceed to play very close by with the extra dominos - thing like catch, and rocket, and soccer, and jump-the-dominos which involved a lot of heavy acrobatics right next to, and sometimes right over, the delicately balanced domino contraptions. It was very nerve wracking.

Me: Watch out! You're going to knock them all down!
Kids: Oops. It was his fault!
Me: Holy crap! What are you doing?
Kids: Oops. It was his fault!

Either that or it would go like this:

Kids: Mom! Mom! Make another one.
Me: Oh, OK. You twisted my arm. I'll do one more.

I'd settle down, sprawled with my legs and arms in all directions, my hair hanging down, arranging dominos. The kids would promptly disappear, off doing something more fun than watching Mom play, and more fun than getting yelled at while messing up Mom's toys.

Me: Hey, where did everyone go?

But they all came back running when I called out that it was ready. We got many pictures, several videos and many happy and fun memories.
 

Quack!

The Curse of the Slinky

Slinkies. Aren't they fun? The word just slides out of the mouth - a slight hiss, a metallic clink and another hiss. Just the word, uttered softly is reminiscent of the sound the toy makes.

But despite how much fun they can be, I am always amazed at how quickly they become unusable. Can't you just hear the jingling jangle of the metal spirals as they cascade down the stairs, the slink-slink-slink-slink sounds as they twist and jiggle, vibrate and sway from hand to hand, the grating shrieks of frustration when somehow, yet again, another slinky, has been twisted into an unrecognizable tangle of metal wires. Why does that happen?

Could it be the orderly way they are gently tipped down the stairs to walk sedately from step to step? Could it be the gentle handling as they are passed from hand to hand, rolling in orderly waves and slinking softly? Or perhaps it's the wild, undulating waves as the wires stretch to their fullest, forming impossible curves and eliciting giggles and shrieks. Perhaps it's the wild sideways thwang! as the end is released across the room to thwock! into the wall. Perhaps it's even the twang and clatter as the overstretched wires snap back, wrapping metal curves around and around each other like a tangle of kitten-snared yarn.

We may never know. I fear the Curse of the Slinky may always remain a mystery.

Quack!