Scene: J and I are sitting on the bed, discussing what we'd like to eat on a lazy night.
Me: I think that I want McDo.nald's.
J: Me too. I want a cheeseburger with no pickles, no onions, no mustard, and no salad.
Me: Salad? It doesn't come with salad.
J: That green stuff on the burger.
Me: Lettuce? You must mean lettuce. Do you know what lettuce is?
J: **looks up in the air to search for the answer** Hmmmm...**starts singing** a...b...c...d....e...f...g....
Me: LOL!!! LET-TUCE, NOT LET-TERS!
He was 3 y/o.
Scene: I'm picking up J from choir practice and ran into the First Lady of the church.
First Lady: Oh, he's doing so well. He's learning all of the songs pretty quickly.
Me: That's good, then he should be ready for Sunday. Well, c'mon J...
First Lady: Are you ready to go, man? You all bundled up? How r u feeling?
J: My private hurts.
Me: **embarrassed and rambling to explain** uh, I already took him to the doctor...
J: Yeah, mommy, but the medicine isn't working.
Me: **through pursed lips** Can we talk about this in the car?
He was 5 y/o.
Scene: I'm sitting in the doctor's office, completng a new patient interview with the nurse. J is playing his Gameboy.
Nurse: How many children do you have?
Me: **turning my head towards J and grinning** One.
Nurse: Do you drink?
J: **without looking up from his Gameboy and shaking his head** You just lied to her mommy.
Me: Excuse me?!
Nurse: **stops typing my answers**
J: We just had something before we left the house.
Nurse: **hard stare...probably wondering if she was going to have to notify Child Pro.tective Ser.vices**
Me: Would you please tell her what WE had?
J: Orange juice.
Me: **pleased with THAT confirmation** Can you ask me how many children I have again? I would like to rethink that answer.
Ya know...5 y/o came with some hum-dingers.
Scene: J and I are enjoying an episode of "Tom and Jerry" in the living room. We're counting how many times Tom has gotten blown up.
Me: **laughing** Where is all that dynamite coming from?
J: I dunno. They just have a lot in that basement.
Me: **watching Tom use a bra as a slingshot for a stick of dynamite, thinking that its a good moment to quiz J on undergarment recognition** What is that J?
J: **grinning and slightly embarrassed** ummm....it starts with a B.
Me: You can't say it? It's ok to say it. What is it?
J: It's a bra, mommy, OK. **looking as if he wanted to say, "It's a bra, DAYUM!"**
Me: **satisfied, continuing to watch Jerry take it to dat azz**
J: I've seen them ripped off before.
Me: WHAT IN THE HELL? **mind screaming WTF????** WHERE THE HELL DID YOU SEE THIS?
J: **growing defensive and stumbling on his words** no, I mean...on wrestling, the women rip their underclothes off.Me: WHEN IS THIS? So they walk around naked? You've seen them with no clothes on?
J: No, I mean...see, when I watch wrestling with PawPaw...
Me: Yeah, that's who I'm about to call right-damn-now, b/c everytime you see something crazy, he's around.
He was 7 y/o...and this was yesterday.
PawPaw: **old school and authoritative** Well, you don't want him to be no sis.sy, do you? He needs to know about that stuff. They show it on wrasslin' and everytime we play those "Bra and Panty" matches on his Playstation, there is a lesson behind it.
Here's MY lesson: It is much harder to raise a PawPaw than it is his grandson.