Kids Talk

Snippets of conversations heard at my house over the last week. FYI, Monty is almost 18, Jimmy is 15 and Nora is 11.

I have never claimed to be a good mother.

Nora asks Monty "What did the guys (referring to kids from Grade 9...she attends a consolidated school) mean today when they were saying socks aren't just for feet anymore?" Monty looks at her, looks at me, spits soda through his nose and swallows his tongue which leads me to believe he knows what boys use socks for and now I need to go home and burn all of his.

My Ex once had his boss call him to see if Ex would go feed his dog. The boss was running late somewhere and apparently the dog was hungry. I know. Now our boys tease him mercilessly whenever the boss calls outside of normal working hours. They'll say things like, "Oh Dad has to go put wood in the fireplace for boss" or "Dad had to go tuck Boss into bed". Monty got home late from school the other day and when he got to his father's place he asked Jimmy, "Where's Dad?" Jimmy replied, without missing a beat, "Boss called, looks like there's trouble in Gotham".

Now, I can't get the mental pic of Ex dressed in a Robin suit out of my head. Gross.

Jimmy is lamenting the fact that his father is on him constantly about finding a job for the summer. So I suggest Wendy's or MacDonald's as the perfect spot for an almost 16 year old to gain summer employment. Jimmy explains to me that he can't handle the "pressure of working in the fast food industry". Those were his exact words. Obviously the poor thing has a delicate constitution.

At the dinner table the other evening we're eating a wonderful meal I had prepared on the bbq. The potatoes are overcooked on the outside but nicely done inside. This perturbs Jimmy. Like really bothers him. He eats the inside of his baked potato and then sits staring forlornely at the skin. After about five minutes of this he raises his head and asks: "What do I do with the skin, should I say a magical chant in hope that it disappears?"

No numbnuts, the compost bin is 4 steps behind you. I did not say this outloud. I worry about that child surviving in the real world.

You know you're a hard ass mother when you call your son from the kitchen and rather than responding with "What?" or "Yes?" he responds with, "Oh Mum, what did I do now?"