As I was driving the younger two to school, Number One Son was shouting out the car window at passers-by. Trying to use the Socratic method, I asked him why he thought it was OK to do that. “Daddy,” says he, “no one notices a car with a Big Ugly Man Doll!”
I cracked up. “You got me there, buddy! True dat.”
Sheesh, even my 9-yr-old is reading this. No wonder we can’t get him to stop swearing!
I am a firm believer in the fundamental interconnectedness of all things. There may be no greater proof of this than when the flow of the water fountain in the hallway ebbs as you hear the toilet flushing in the adjacent bathroom.
Clearly, I’m the lax parent and should return to my regular urchin-beating schedule. Who knew?
Number One Son commented to his mother the other day that “Sometimes it’s easier when just Dad’s around. You’re really strict.”
Before SOBUMD could voice a riposte to this, the Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, and High Protector of Barbies rushed into the gap, defending the honor and good nature of the parent in front of her, “What are you talking about? She’s a kind, loving Mom.”
Number One Son gave her a classic “your bangs do a good job hiding the lobotomy scars” look and just moved on. SOBUMB decided no further comments were required.
A few day before this, mind you, SOBUMD was lecturing the older two while all three were in the playroom; when she was done, the RQoP looked at her and said, “Excuse me, I’d just like to say that I’m not a part of this.”
Is it any wonder that her favorite book is called “Don’t Throw the Pigeon Under the Bus!”
That’s right, your favorite game is back – It’s time for another round of “You know you work in DC when!” I had a good example today, which I’ll use to start the game; please share your own, even if anonymously – or as we say here, “not for attribution.” Come on, you watched the West Wing – you can play too!
You know you work in DC when you can tell the tourists at a glance – they don’t have badges.
You know you work in DC when you decide you can’t come to work because you’re allergic to cherry blossoms.
You know you work in DC when you wonder why your 5th-Grader is still talking about getting a seat in musical chairs, and you realize they’re referring to a Senate race.
You know you work in DC when you flip to the “Local Sports” section of the paper and they’re covering your county’s school board elections.
You know you work in DC when you take the train to the metro to your office, but you’ll still hail a cab to get 6 blocks up Pennsylvania Ave.
You know you work in DC when you hear people talking about the Oscars nominee and assume that some “Oscar” guy is being considered for the Supreme Court.
You know you work in DC when the number of euphemisms you know for “slept with an intern” exceeds the number of interns you actually know.
(Not to be confused with “You know you’re in politics when…” – You know you’re in politics when the number of interns you’ve slept with exceeds the number of euphemisms you know for it.)
OK, your turn!
We may be reaching “that” age. SOBUMD called her mother this morning for Mother’s Day. The side of the conversation I could hear was classic: “Happy Mother’s Day!” … “I said, Happy Mother’s Day!” I’m sure it was just a bad connection.
SOBUMD’s idea of a good Mother’s Day is sleeping in, having breakfast of hot bagels and fresh salmon, and not getting out of her PJs. We’re big fans of not getting out of our PJs in this house. She opened a few presents from the kids, and there were great surprises. Of course, it was the kids who were surprised to find out what they bought for her, but at least someone was surprised.
The home-made card from the Human Tape Recorder included a remarkable treatise on Motherhood: “You’re nice, smart, awesome, helpful, and a lot of other good things.”
Yeah, I think that about sums it up.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers!