Bill Cosby said it best. It’s hard to remember your kids’ names sometimes.
Especially when chaos erupts in my house, and I’m required to perform lightning fast thinking and speaking skills to keep everyone and everything in line, or things will go horribly askew.
Tonight at supper, which was its normal-Daddy’s-at-work-we-can-all-act-like-monkeys loud affair, Big E began arguing with me about what he was going to do and not going to do (again, as usual) and I said something so funny and so stupid at the same time, the repercussions of which I will surely realize very soon, since school is now in session. Dang, I can sure write some run on sentences, can’t I?
Anyway, it all started out innocently enough.
Little B: “Mom, I know what letter makes the ‘duh’ sound.”
Me: “Huh? What letter makes…oh, what letter makes that sound, B?”
Little B: “D”
Me: “Very good.”
Little B: “And I know what word starts with the letter ‘d’. Dad!”
Me: “Wow, that’s really really good, B.”
Little B: “First, I learned what sound that letter made, and then I figured it out all by myself about the dad word.”
Me: “Yeah, that’s great.”
Little B: “Do you know how to spell some words?”
Me: “I sure do. I can spell lots of words.”
Little B: “Can you tell me all the words you can spell?”
Me: “Well, I can spell a lot of words.”
Little B: “Okay, tell me them.”
Me: “I can spell ‘eat’. E-A-T.”
Little B: “Uh huh, what else?”
Me: “Well, really, I want to know what you can spell…can you spell cat?”
Tween C: (with a hand over her mouth…to imply that no one but B can hear her) “c a t”.
Little B: “C A T”
Me: “Very good.”
Big E: “B, I’ve got one, can you spell osteoporosis?”
Little B: “What?”
Big E: “Osteoporosis.”
Little B: “No, I can’t spell that.”
Me: “Don’t worry, neither can your bubba.”
Big E: “Me? I can’t spell it?”
Big E: “Yes I can, give me a computer and 35 seconds.”
Me: “E, go take a shower.”
Big E: “I am, because I was going to do that anyway.”
Me: “I know you were, because you knew I was going to tell you to.”
Big E: “Let me get on the ‘pewter first, so I can show you.”
Me: “No, go take a shower, we are burning daylight here.”
Big E: “Let me just show you…”
About this time, the kids start in on another. Chaos is on the brink of outbreak, and I must gain control immediately.
Me: “C, go bathe B. A, finish eating your supper. B–er—bubb—uh, E! Go take a shower!”
Big E: “Only if you can say my name right.”
Me: “GO…UH…get the comput…UH…TAKE A SHOWER!”
Laughter erupts, but I’m not even smiling. If I let them see me smile, I’ll never get this sorted out in time for bedtime.
Me: “Go, (‘oh shit,’ I realized instantly, ‘I forgot his name again…I can’t say the wrong thing here, because I will lose everything!’] STINKY-ASS.”
There was a fraction of a second of silence, and then they all busted out laughing. Litte B and Little A laughed uncontrollably, rolling around on the floor, repeating the words over and over like a mantra. “STINKY-ASS!”
Crap. School teachers are gonna hate me this year.