I don’t think I have seen the sun in over a week. Winter in Chicago has arrived. Incessant gloom and chill and dark and please tell me the sun is visiting you, wherever you are. My Happy Lamp is on ten hours a day and not touching the melancholy, I’m pounding hot tea to keep my sanity (coffee is again off limits because my stomach threatened a violent coup), and those Christmas cookies aren’t going to binge eat themselves.
Yes, I believe I do have a touch of the depression. Maybe slightly more than just a touch. Perhaps a full body slam into the boards.
So a little something to increase cheer and turn that frown upside down (I hate that phrase, no idea why I just used it). I found some old notes, mainly of things the boys have said in recent months, and some of them were so off-kilter hysterical they require sharing and I’ll deal with the inevitable “Mooooommmmmm!!!!” later. Identities are concealed to protect the innocent.
“Why does my saliva not bounce around in my mouth when I’m bouncing on this ball?”
“<smacks his lips> Mmmm…saliva. Water on-the-go.”
Me: You and your brother needs dress pants for Easter services.
Him: We have pants!
Me: They don’t fit, they’re too small.
Him: The tighter the pants, the closer you are to God.
Me: I can’t keep up. I don’t know where you’re coming up with this.
Him: My hippocampus.
Me: You’re not going to wear tight pants to church.
Him: Why not?
Me: No one wants to see the outline of your butt. I’m your mother and I don’t want to see it.
Him: Who wouldn’t want to see my butt? It’s not all about you! Think about the others!
Him: Stubby tailed dogs always tell the truth.
Him: They don’t have tall tales.
Thirsty, and looking in the fridge:
Him: “Mom? Can I have an Alan Turing?”
Me: “…???…Do you mean an Arnold Palmer?”
“Mom? Can you milk a horse? Oh! You know what would be great? Pig milk! Liquid bacon!”
Him: Mom, what are flavored condoms?
Me: (why in hell do I get these questions when Tom is not here?) They’re condoms. In flavors.
Him: But why? Penises don’t have tongues.
Me: (I deserve a bloody medal) But their partners do.
(Welcome, creepy google searchers. Go away now, nothing to see here.)