Last week the boys and I were trying to decide on a movie rental when I clicked on a preview for one of my favorites.
Me: Oh, this was one of my favorites from when I was a kid. You boys are going to love it! Here, I’ll show you a preview.
Halfway through the preview…
J (age 10): C’mon, mom. This is sooooo 90s. Show us something from the 21st century.
Me: Seriously?!? Did you seriously just say that?
J: Yeah, step in to the 21st century, Mom. Things are better here. Things like…ummmm….movies, duh.
Me: Oh, you just brought it. Just for that, I’m taking you back to the 80s and you’re going to sit here and watch Goonies and you’re gonna like it! Next time it’s Gremlins!!!! Watch out! Maybe after you learn to enjoy the 80s I’ll let you enter the 90s.
We went to a local amusement park and I had the privilege of riding with S (age 7) on of those ferris wheels with cages that spin around.
Me: Whoah, that spin just made my stomach drop. Totally feels like butterflies in there.
Screaming at the top of his lungs….
S: This ride makes it tickle in my nuts and it’s the best feeling EVER!!!!!!
Me: I’m not sure I’ll ever understand you boys and your nuts!
We were dying for dinner the other night and the only place near us that didn’t have a long wait was a somewhat quiet, fancy steak house and at the booth behind us sat three African Americans. During the dinner the boys’ side of the booth faced a television in the bar area on which a boxing match was being aired. One guy was wearing black gloves and one guy was
wearing red. When viewing competitive sports the boys speak about the teams in regards to what color they are wearing. In this case that would be the black guy and the red guy.
G (not using his restaurant voice at all!): OMG! Did you see that? The black guy was all getting punched in the face. The other guy was all pow, pow, pow, and the black guy’s face looked like this in slow motion. It’s so hilarious.
All the boys break out in giggles
G: It’s like the red guy wants to kill the black guy. Oh yeah, the black guy is losing. He’s getting hit hard.
S: I’ll be the black guy and you punch me in the face.
This went on for minute after minute after long f*n minute. Adam and I sat there cringing knowing what it must sound like to listen to the conversation at our table. But no biggie because we knew they were simply talking about the black boxing team and the red boxing team and not laughing about a black man getting randomly beat to a bloody pulp. Thank goodness.
Break to commercial and the boys all start playing “Jinx, you owe me a soda”. In an effort to one up each other, the stakes of what they owed each other kept getting bigger and louder.
G: Jinx, I own you like a slave, P. You’re my slave for life now and have to do whatever I tell you for no money.
Face, meet palm. Facepalm.
Adam: Check please!