Girl Talk: Brought to You by Little Boys

Today's kiddie conversation in the car turned romantic when the ten-year-old asked me this:

10YO: "Kimmy, can I ask you something?"

MY THOUGHT BUBBLE: "Uh oh..."

MY ACTUAL WORDS: "Of course."

10YO:  "Should I be mad at my best friend if he likes the same girl that I like?"

ME: "Well, if this girl is nice enough that you think she's great... chances are there will be other people in the world who think she's nice too. You can't expect to be her only friend."

10YO: "No, Kimmy.  I'm not talking 'friends'.  Pacifically..."

ME (a.k.a. Grammar Police, coming in quick with the cut-off): "...Pacifically's not a word. 'Specifically'..."

10YO:  "Specifically, what if he like-likes her too?"

ME: "Well, how about you all have fun together at recess? There's no reason you can't both think she's nice and all be friends. There's nothing wrong with that.  That's all you guys should be worrying about at ten years old."

He then launches into the whole story that his other friends think he should be mad at the best friend and think they should be fighting. This girl makes him laugh, this girl makes the friend laugh.  But, everyone else thinks the friend is trying to "steal" her from him.

ME (Now playing the role of 'GIRL POWER'): "Steal her?!  Girls aren't property and she doesn't belong to either of you!  You can all be friends and make each other laugh. You guys are ten-years-old!  It's not like anybody's getting married anytime soon!"

10YO:  "Married?!  You're thinking of like-like-like. I'm talking like-like, here..."

ME: "Oh brother!"

His verbal weighing of the right vs. wrong of the situation went on and on for a few more minutes that I, quite frankly, started to tune out of.

There was some more, "Everybody says this..." and "I think that..."  But, then he brought me back with the statement, "Well, I guess I wouldn't turn on my best friend. As a matter of fact, I'd DUMP a girl for my best friend!!!"

ME: "Now we're dumping people?!  I don't like that kind of talk!"

[Cue our little six-year-old punchline, chiming in from the back seat]:

6YO: "I dumped a girl once."

ME: "Oh, really..."

6YO:  "Yeah.  And, I mean I literally dumped her.  Right into the trash can!"

Let's check our Final Scorecard: 

10YO = +1 best friend, -1 girlfriend; 

6YO = +1 zinger; 

Me = Exasperated X 2.

More "Normal" Talk: Who Needs Lasers Edition

It's Sunday so, of course, I found myself in the company of my brother's kids again which, of course, found us in the car at some point which, of course, once again led to silly little boy talk.  (It's better than the radio on a good day.  On a bad day, not so much.)

We were driving down a country road as Fourteen-year-old Sister blissfully watched the scenery of pretty houses go by and began to describe her own dream home.  This led Ten-year-old (previously referred to as "9YO" but, he just had a birthday, so you'll have to adapt) to ramble on about his own dream residence. (Funnily enough, each of their dream homes have only one bedroom.)  Which left the coda to this fantasy-spilling session to the six-year-old (yes, previously "5YO" and also with a recent birthday.)

"I just want a normal house.  Normal normal normal.  One bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen and one laser to keep the bad guys out."

You could almost audibly hear him ponder whether or not a house with the security of a sizzling laser-zapping system was allowed under his definition of "normal", so he quickly corrected himself:

"No, wait.  No laser.  Just a normal house with one bedroom, one bathroom and one cat.  If a bad guy comes in I'll just ask him, 'Will you please leave now and stop terrorizing my cat?' If he doesn't listen I'll give him one knuckle.  If he still doesn't listen I'll give him another knuckle.  If he still doesn't listen it's a knuckle to the balls and then I beat him up." (five second pause) "Oh.  And, I'll have one dog too."

The price of admission to my Trailblazer has just gone up.

Not Normal

The fifteen minute drive between my brother's house and mine turns out to be the ripest setting for amusing conversations between my nephews, ages five and nine.

Today's was no different:

9YO: "When I grow up, I'm going to have five jobs. 1.) a D.J. I'm going to look so cool! I'll have awesome sunglasses, you know? The kind with the stripes. I'm going to wear a green jacket and have ginormous headphones, 2.) a zookeeper, 3.) a paleontologist, 4.) a fifth grade teacher and 5.) Ummm... a mega party animal, I guess."

5YO: "I'm going to be a gator wrestler when I grow up."

9YO: "No!"

5YO: "Yes. I'm going to have one job.  Wrestling gators and I'm going to wrestle them down!"

9YO:  "Well, when you die from a gator attack, I guess I'll see you at your funeral!"

5YO:  [thinks it over for another moment or two] "No.  Never mind.  I'm just going to be normal.  No wife.  No kids.  No job.  Normal."

ME:  [finding the perfect timing to interject with a teaching moment] "No, no, no... Normal people have jobs."

5YO:  "Fine.  I'll have one job, but no wife.  No girlfriend.  Just normal."

9YO:  "Don't you know that normal people are the most boring thing in the world?!  If there's one thing this family is not, it's normal.  We're too hyper.  We're not boring, we are not normal.  Normal people just sit up straight and watch way too much TV with either a dog or a cat sitting next to them.  Boring!"

5YO:  "Yeah, you're right.  Normal people are pretty boring.  That's not us.  We have fun."

9YO:  [launches into a three-minute diatribe against the lameness of normalcy and ends it with...] "Kimmy?"

ME:  "Yes?"

9YO:  "Just so you know, you don't have to worry... we're not talking about you.  You are NOT normal."

ME: "Thanks?"

9YO: [stares out the car window, watching the traffic going by and seeming content with his speech for the moment.  Then he dreamily footnotes:] "Normal people have the nicest cars."

"No Offense!"

I have a five-year old nephew who thinks "I'm sorry" is a get-out-of-jail-free card.  He thinks he can punch his brother, kick his sister, slap anyone's face and not get in trouble because, "Well... I said, 'I'm sorry!'"

It's not uncommon to hear a thud coming from the other room, instant tears accompanied by an "I'm telling!" that's very quickly followed with an "I'm sorry!  It's okay. I'm sorry!"  It's also not uncommon for me to enter the room as a slap-down is in progress, meet eyes with the five-year-old slapper and still have him play his card once it should be too late.  "I'm sorry!" he tosses out to his nine-year-old brother whom he's just publicly walloped.  Nine-year-old brother looks at me and tosses out an equally hasty, "It's okay, I forgive you."  Fake hugs are the next order of business and they think this means all is well.  Yes, he may forgive you, but it's not okay!

I don't know if I'm more perplexed by the logic of the apologizer or the forgiver in this scene.  That is, I was perplexed until I learned older brother's new piece of rationale.  The phrase "no offense" has entered his fifth grade vocabulary.

He uses his get-out-of-jail-free card as a means to criticize everyone's weight, looks, intelligence or natural body odor and thinks he can cash in our forgiveness by prefacing the whole insult with a "No offense, but..." 

Only someone with the audacity to say such things as, "No offense, but your armpits smell like toothpaste." and "No offense, Kimmy, but I weigh 70 pounds and you weigh a thousand times more than me." (Oh yes! Real life examples!) would have the same reasoning to forgive someone as they are simultaneously pounding in his solar plexus.  Maybe he's just laying the groundwork for a "No offense, but you're a big-headed buttface" that he knows he'll be dishing out within the hour.  Who knows!

I hope I've effectively used this weekend to clear up that once a bad deed is done, sorry or not, it is still wrong and there will still be punishment.  And that, if you feel the need to say "no offense" before making a comment, it's probably a comment left best unsaid.

Now if I could just remove the word "sexy" from the five-year-old's vocabulary. As in:

5YO: "There are three Japanese girls in my class.  They all love me and they are all SEXY!"

Me: "What?! What do you know about sexy?"

5YO: "I'm telling you, these girls love me and they are [in a creepily sing-songy voice] sex-y!!!"

Me: "That's the most inappropriate thing I've ever heard!"

5YO: "But, they are!"

Me: "That is not a word for kids. I don't want to hear of it coming out of your mouth again until you're at least twenty!  And, not even then!"
5YO: "I'm not lying.  They are sexy and HOT!"

Me: "That's gross.  No five-year-old is sexy!"

5YO: "It's okay.  One of them is six!"

No offense, but I foresee the principal's office calling next school year with a complaint that "I'm sorry" won't be good enough to fix. Sigh...

Things I Overhear: "Nakie Men" Edition

I overhear alot of things when shopping at Target.  It is my favorite discount chain.  And, since they started carrying groceries a few years back, I now find myself there at least once a week.

In visiting so frequently, I tend to overhear many things.  Newly cohabitating couples, grocery shopping together for the first time, deciding how on earth to make dinner for two.  Babies alerting their parents that they've been shopping too long.  One-ended sides of cell phone conversations.  Mothers demanding, "Put that back!"  Kids pleading, "But, I really really need it!"

Today's ditty was overheard over the tops of the shelves and took place one aisle over from where I shopped.  I was in the feminine hygiene aisle (don't snicker, we're all grown-ups here...) and we all know which product is kept one aisle over from feminine hygiene.

Little Girl:  [apparently looking at some sort of product packaging]  "Ew mommy, why is that guy naked?!"

Mom: [half listening] "Hmmm..."

Me: [in thought, and catching on quicker that Mom] Oh goodness, that little girl's first trip through the contraceptive aisle.

Little Girl:  "He's naked mommy.  Tee hee hee."

Mom: [paying better attention now] "What?  Oh... put that back!"

Me: [in thought] Don't shop for condoms with your kid, lady!

Little Girl:  "I can't believe this guy is naked.  Why in the world would he be NAKED???"

Mom: "Come over here by me."

Little Girl: "Hee hee.  He is sooo nakie!"

Mom: "Shhhh...

Little Girl: "But, he's NAKIE!!!  WHY would he be NAKED??  Hee hee hee hee."

Me: [In thought]  For goodness sakes, get that kid out of there before her innocence is stolen and lost for good!

Mom: [Obviously embarrassed now and sounding as if she's finally decided to shuffle along]

Little Girl: [Manages to blurt out, while being dragged out of the aisle] "I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY HAVE NAKIE MEN HERE!"

And, away they finally go.

Being the good blog reporter that I am, I decided to coast my cart over one aisle to see what all the fuss is about.  (They sell first aid in that row too, y'know. Who's to say I'm not shopping for Band-Aids?)

I round the corner and, lo and behold, what lay before me?  Three full shelves of nakie men!  From the waist up, that is.  With towels around their bottom halves.  Clutching their backs, as if in pain.  With an odd rectangle of white slapped onto their backs.

Yes.  The poor little girl's innocence was taken by the IcyHot medicated heat patch display.

I'll give her another month or two before her radar kicks in.  That's when she'll turn around, discover the other side of the aisle and really come up with some extra loud questions to embarrass her mother with.

Until then!