Tales From the Backseat

Boykid does some of his most profound thinking from the backseat of my car on the way to and from work. Today he wanteds to know why there was a hospital just for men. I thought I hadn't heard him properly, but when I asked him the repeat the question was the same. I told him that there was no hospital just for men, that there was a Women's College Hospital but that was mostly for childbirth and whatnot.

Boykid then asked why the Radio said that there was a men's hospital if it wasn't true. I tild him that the radio wouldn't have said such a thing, that he must be mistaken. He insisted that the radio did say it and that he hears it all the time during commercials.

"OK then" I said, "what is the name of this supposed hosptital?"
Without hesitation he replied "The Hurts a Guy Institute."

It took me a minute...

Thirteen - The Most Magical of Ages

Ah thirteen. God I hated being thirteen. Hormones activating, hair sprouting, funny smells emanating. The only thing that could possibly be worse is being the parent of a thirteen year old. Girlkid can switch from a mature, beautiful, lovely young lady to a whiny, self centred, immature brat in milliseconds. Thirteen year olds also know everything, whereas I no longer know anything. The following conversation I just had with Girlkid demonstrates the fun of parenting a thirteen year old

Me: Are you wearing that outside? It’s pretty cold.
Girlkid: No it’s not.
Me: It also looks like rain.
Girlkid: No it doesn’t.
Me: I wasn’t aware that you received your meteorologists degree.
Girlkid: OH MY GOD! YOU THINK YOU ARE SO FUNNY! YOU AREN’T! STOP RUINING MY LIFE!

I wonder if being thirteen again would make me funnier…

When Dad's Away

This is what happens when Dad is out on business.

Right now girlkid is asking boykid what time it is. For some reason he has opted out of talking. He has pointed to the clock 5 times now. He is still refusing to talk. He has now obtained notebook and is attempting to write down his thoughts. Girlkid has stolen his pen. I believe she just put pen up her buttcrack (I wish I were joking). They are now wrestling on the couch for the pen. Oh - pen has been recovered, and boykid is running around the table refusing to talk again.

I think it's going to be a long night....