moms say the damnedest things



montage of an adorable morning, enhanced by accidental matchy-matchy-ness of frog and shirt.

 somewhere around middle school, i heard a joke that was so funny to me, i couldn't even tell without bursting into fits of giggles. it went something like this:

what do you do when you're driving
through the desert and the
doorknob falls off your tornado?

it doesn't matter, there's not enough

pancakes to cover the doghouse anyway!

lest you think i am using this blog as a showcase for my series of cornball jokes (and if you know me, you know they are myriad), i do have a point. how on earth did the 11-year-old girl who couldn't make it past the word "pancakes" without laughing aloud ever become the woman who could say this with a straight face:

john, please don't put your goldfish
in the laundry basket. you can put

them in the bathtub if you must

put them somewhere.

never fear, i've not lost my sense of humor. it's just that something about bringing a child into this world seems to erase the ludicrousness of all things odd. surreal is the new real.

i suppose it is because little ones are just discovering the world, and to them, there's no reason NOT to put a goldfish cracker in the laundry basket. or take the cereal boxes out of the recycling. or move a coke can from the fridge to the stepstool. or give a yogurt puff to the dog.

and i suppose that as a mama, i get so used to those crazy explorations of his world that i sometimes say crazy things and don't notice. like "it's not an uhoh if you let the dog drink your juice." or "do you want to get out of that box and eat some oranges?" or "which bucket do you want mama to put on her head - the yellow one with a four or the blue one with a two? it's a funny hat!"

so here is my pledge: i want to notice these silly things i say more often. i want to laugh even more with my silly little bug. i want to giggle over the pancakes on the doghouse, and watch my son learn to laugh at the more surreal aspects of the world around him. and my reward will be the silly laughs he gives me with light in his sweet blue eyes.

and i can't wait to tell him this one. (you may need to read it aloud if you haven't heard it before):

what do you call a fish with no eyes?

fssssssshhhhhhhh!