funny bone

Jack has been cracking us up lately.
There are few things as enjoyable as when your kids make you laugh.
In our family, the children tend to get away with quite a bit if they
are quick and witty about it.
I know that it's wrong. But their father and I place high value on laughter.
And we hate to cramp their style.
On Sunday, we had church in our living room.
Usually, we provide a tasty tid bit to nibble on as we discuss the scriptures
along with proffering coffee and juice.
I was running late so I ran to the store for cinnamon rolls.
The children gazed at me with joy when I placed them on the table,
dripping with a vanilla glaze. They gazed at me with joy until I said,
"You can have HALF of a cinnamon roll."
I know. I know. The children are going to need therapy because I only let
them have half a cinnamon roll.
But maybe you will understand why I was limiting their sugar intake
when I tell you what they ate last week.
I called the boys each day to chat while I was in Colorado.
On Tuesday, I asked Jack, "Is daddy taking good care of you?"
"Sure," he answered, cheerfully, "If you call junk food taking care of us!"
He than proceeded to open the freezer and list off the different food groups.
That would be one food group actually. Pre-fried and frozen.
"Mom, we have hot pockets, tacos, taquitos and 115 fish sticks!"
At this, I laughed. And Jack said, "No, really it says 115 right on the package!"
Followed by, "And don't forget the Cheese Nips!"
But tsgs, when your husband offers to take care of the children BY HIMSELF
for 2 weeks out of a 4 week period and lets you go on vacation with your sisters
and then fly out to help your parents move into their new home,
you let him feed the children whatever he chooses. Because that is called grace.
And then when mommy comes home after a week of frozen and fried food bingeing?
We call that detox. We bring them down off the sugar nice and slow.
Hence the one half of the cinnamon roll.
At the same time, the children were lamenting their lack of processed foods,
Scott was chatting with Andy, one of our college students,
about the new university he will be transfering to in the fall.
The crime rate is pretty high even though it is a prestigious school.
There were 200 on campus assaults last year.
I told Scott he should show him some moves to protect himself.
When Scott was studying to become a black belt,
his martial arts school would spar against other martial arts schools.
His school participants were referred to as "the groin kickers" due to a stylized
kick they would win their matches with.
Not a pretty name but I'm told it's quite effective in
the taking down of one's sparring partner.
So Scott told Andy he could teach him a few things.
But then Scott also said,
"I can show you some defense moves but if someone has a gun or a knife,
you don't do anything. You just give them what they want."
At this point in the conversation, Jack, who was listening with great interest,
walked over to the silverware drawer and pulled out a table knife.
He walked over to Scott, who was standing near the cinnamon rolls and said,
"I'd like a cinnamon roll."
He didn't get the cinnamon roll but he did get a big laugh.
And in our family, that is almost just as good. Almost.