Sometimes life is funny. Even when it’s not trying. Mundane moments suddenly become hysterical with the tiniest joke or nuance. Comedians who have kids don’t have to make jokes up; they just have to write life down as it happens. My kids make me laugh doing things they don’t realize is funny. And maybe it’s not what they did that was so funny, but the though process behind their actions or requests. It’s the thoughts I have about what they say. This morning was one of those funny moments. It was a brilliant morning. A funny request morning. It was a chocolate cake morning. This morning Monkey Man was full of great ideas. It started when I was preparing Bean and Peanut their lunch for school. I took a break from the usual creativeness and just sent them pasta with meatballs. None of the canned junk with “Papa” on it
(the good Chef favors my dad -- see picture, enjoy creepy look alikes), m’kay? Yummy homemade meatballs and the little cute pasta they like. Monkey Man decided right then he wanted pasta for breakfast. Pasta and meatballs. For breakfast.
Clark Kent commented he was just being a “good Italian kid” (nod to the Sicilian side of our family). I tried to convince him that cereal, or eggs and toast, or cheese toast would be better, but he would have none of it. So, pasta it was. After all, meatballs and pasta isn’t that far off from sausage and grits, right? Right. So he had his high-carb breakfast and wanted to play outside.
Here in western
we have had rain. Torrential rain. Tornado-spawning, river flooding rain. Someone go call Noah rain. All kinds of rain. And it’s overflowed the rivers. All of them. Especially the Tennessee . As I type this, Old Man River is slowly creeping up into the yards of friends. Last year on May 1st we were flooded out in parts off the county. My dearest friend lost almost everything. And here we are again. Mississippi
Needless to say, my yard is a soggy mess. And that’s after two days of pure warm sunshine. So, when Monkey Man asked to go outside I told him he needed his rain boots. “Can’t I wear my Crocs ™ mom?” he asked. No, rain boots are a must, because it’s gross out. Reasonable request. Nothing doing. Instead he asks, “Why can’t I just wear my feet?” I giggled and told him his Crocs ™ were fine. And out he went to squish in the mud and play in the sand box, which is a muddy water box now. And he got wet. But it was a good, happy, fun wet. Little boys have a way of making every situation they are in fun. That’s why I love them. Next time I think I’ll go squish in the mud with him. And you better believe we’ll both just wear our feet.