Swimming In Jello.

I stole that idea from the Accidental Olympian.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm swimming in Jello. Green Jello.  With a pouch of curry flavor.  (If anybody can tell me where I got the curry jello part, I'll give you a mental hi-five)   At least when it comes to understanding the species that is male.
I just so happen to live with three of them.  Almost four.

A couple of weeks ago, the boys were in the shower and I was keeping an eye on them.  Because kids can drown in a spoonful of water.  (At least, that's what they tell me.)
There is this phenomenon in boys, that at least 4,279 times a day, they must make sure their junk is still there.
For some reason, watching the boys in the shower, getting in the last 278 times for the day, exasperated me.

Me: Do you guys always have to hold onto it?
B-rox [very matter of factly, and slightly exasperated I would even ask such a question]:  That's what it's there for mom.

That was SO not the day to have the talk about what it's really there for.  So I just shook my head, and left the room when Hubband nodded his head and said "Yep, pretty much."


Tuesday, I took Kenny into the doctor.  He'd been coughing for a while, and it was no longer "drainage" cough sounding.  I became especially worried when his nose wasn't even running - and he was still hacking.
(Yes, it was pneumonia.  But we caught it early - so he's fine now.)

Sitting in the exam room, he starts hitting himself.  Really smacking the side of his head.  Then laughing.

Me: Kenny, why are you hitting yourself?
Kenny [holding out his hand]: Because I have a hand.

But of course... why didn't I already know that????


Next time, I won't forget the crayons - so he can go back to passing the time drawing on the white sani-paper they put on the beds.

But do you see what I mean?  I. Am. Drowning.

At least they're cute....