Photo of the Day

He was being pretty photo friendly today so there is a tie. I really couldn't decide which one I like best.

Spring

Days like today really put me in the mood for spring. Although it's scheduled to rain we are also expected to reach a more seasonable temperature of 60 degrees. This may not be the Cali weather I grew up in, but it is quite the break from the icky 40 and below temps we've been seeing the past few weeks.

But, Spring reminds me of warmth, and warmth reminds me that I will be needing to bring out my warm weather wardrobe which includes shorts, dresses, and open toed shoes. The thought of warm weather attire gets me a little smiley, but also a little frightened. I'm reminded of the personal grooming hiatus I have been on since I wrapped my toes in cozy socks and covered my legs with full length trousers.

My legs and feet have not seen the light of day since late October, last year, and they have not encountered a razor (or lotion) in almost as long (except for doc appt. where I shaved to knee area). My feet and toes, however have been completely forgotten. They are the long lost, distant relatives that have not been seen or heard from in ages. Actually, it's like they've been lost at sea, and now they are returning to shore beaten and battered with a touch of scurvy and hope for a new life. And a new life they shall get!

It is my hope that a visit to the spa is in my immediate future. Now that all of the dudes are fully mobile and borderline verbal, Husband can be left as the acting Director of Homeland Happenings (aka DOHH!), long enough for me to get a few of these issues addressed. While I understand why my craggy feet have effectively sanded a path on the hardwoods from the kitchen to to the dining room, I'm not sure how to explain the fact that my eyebrows have not seen the waxing station since before Santa made his yearly debut. I currently look like a cross between Genie and Al B. Sure.

There is really no excuse for this atrocity! In addition to being a mom I am a woman, and I seriously have got to start looking like one. I'm devoting myself to getting it together this year. I may not be ready to fully step into adulthood (am totally hooked on teen TV shows: 90210, Made, True Life, etc), but I am gonna try to start spending a little more time on me. This really only means that instead of Nairing my brows off, which has the unfortunate side effect of leaving you hideously burned (they say safe for face!), I am going to march myself into the nail shop and get them done. And, instead of that $8 Herbal Essence home dye kit that has the potential to leave you looking like you had a bad encounter with a packet of Kool Aid and your 16 year old heavily pierced cousin, I am going to book an appointment with a stylist and let them work their magic on the frizzies.

2009 will be mine. Watch and listen friends, it's on!

Photo of the Day

I really couldn't decide between these two from yesterday's first break in the ugly weather. It was a tossup between the amazing antics of #2 and the sentimental shot of #3 longing watching the older dudes play. He luves his big brothers even if he does occasionally take it upon himself to own them with a few man slaps to the face.

I've learned

a lot in the seven years since I have changed my name to Mommy. Here are the most obvious.

1. Sometimes, I suck. Yep it's true, it happens to the best of us, which I think we've all determined does not include me. I feel like a spend a disproportionate amount of time sucking, but I do a fair to good job of denying it, disguising it, or passing it off on the dudes and/or the husband. IMO only fair b/c I feel like, as a mom, the expectation that you don't suck is WAY too high.

2. Sometimes the dudes suck. But, really, don't we all? I keep telling my husband that they are just littler people, smaller (cuter) versions of him and me. They get tired, hungry, annoyed, and disappointed. And, sometimes they, like their grown up counterparts, suck.

3. I'm dumb. This is a whole separate category from the "I suck" category. The two may seem mutually exclusive, but let me highlight the difference. Sucking is borderline intentional. You may not specifically have set out to suck, but many of your actions and choices led you to do so. You kinda knew you were headed down the sucky path, but it felt good, it was working for you at the time, so you kept on truckin'. Dumb is different entirely. You actually intended to make the most of your day or guide your children down the path of righteousness, but somehow you went askew. Again, you may have caused the divergence, but it was inadvertent. And, dumb seldom feels good and rarely works in your favor. It is often more excusable, but generally more undesirable than sucking.

4. I can out sing Beyonce. No, really, I can. Ask #2, he'll tell you.

5. Copper is durable. As is the human body. The two can be brought together and try though they might, they will not destroy each other. But what it will destroy is any cool you have left with the neighbors when they catch you digging through the potty chair with a plastic fork and spoon making sure that the copper was fully expelled from the miniature human body that ingested it.

6. Toilets are not as durable as the human body. They can not stand to have items not specifically designed for their ingestion shoved down their skinny porcelain throats. If this occurs, they choke, they spew, and they die. And if the ingested object is, let's say, a large plastic bouncy ball, it could cost you in the range of $700 to have said dead toilet replaced by a shinier, happier, deeper throated model.

7. I have a love/hate relationship with nursing. I can't decide how I feel about it, but I know I'd totally do it again (obviously since I nursed all 3 dudes for a year). Let's start with the good things:

• It was free. Have you seen how much formula costs?
• No extra time spent prepping bottles for nighttime feeding; just open and insert.
• It makes you skinny! And this is the biggest bonus for me. I lost all of my baby weight, plus some in like 6 months. I have since gained some of it back, so I am currently looking for breastfeeding opportunities in my community b/c my a** is getting outta control.

And for the bad:

• Pain, pain, pain! But, it essentially doesn't hurt once your body has become accustomed to torture, at which point you could effectively nurse a baby wolverine.
• All of the feedings are your responsibility. But, I have a funny feeling that they would've been anyway.
• Can't go anywhere without baby or the man made version of baby, also known as the breast pump. But, by #3, I never went anywhere anyway.

I think I might have loved it, but I'm not entirely sure.

8. I dance like a preschooler; lots of jumping, twisting, and foot stomping. I hope this wasn't always the case, but I can't really remember and I don't want to test my skills at a club for fear that my husband might leave me for a more rythmically proficient model.

9. I'm wildly creative. I can make up a song, a poem, or a joke in a heart beat. I can also draw, finger paint, and work some magic with the Play-Doh like nobody's business. And, these kids have really unlocked my inner Annie Liebowitz. Not that I'll ever be that awesome, but 7 years ago I didn't even know who she was. But, I could tell you all about that "Thong, Thong, Thong, Thong, Thong"! so I kinda think the preschool dancing issue may be a side effect of mommyhood (fingers crossed).

10. I can love the smelliest, orneriest, most obstinately disgruntled little monkeys and see them as the sweetest, nicest, most pleasantly compliant little angels with whom I am eager (OK, willing) to spend every waking moment with.

Please, just leave (preempted by reason 4,376)

I know they were all thinking this. They had to be.

I was thinking this. Why can't we just leave? Why can't we just get our crap and get out of this forsaken warehouse of beautiful textiles and functional furniture at a price you can't afford to pass up?

We should have known this was going to be a bad day. Who drives an hour on a snowy, wintry day to furniture shop at Ikea with three young, at times despotic, often temperamental dudes?

And here's the dumbest part (because there always is a dumb part with me, isn't there?) when we packed the dudes into the car with their little snacks and their previously selected DVD we were all a buzz with optimistic excitement. We'll have lunch, they'll like that. They can play at the thoughtfully placed children's centers throughout the showroom, they'll like that too. They will have fun, everyone loves Ikea.

Not so much. It's my fault really b/c I tried to drop #1 & #2 off at the Smalland play place. I figured, they are old enough, they can enjoy it together, just for a while. After collecting all of their outerwear in a practical plastic box, filling out a necessarily detailed sign in slip, and waiting 30 minutes, we were cheerily notified that the next group would be leaving in 10 minutes to make room for three more entrants. Hmmm, there are four kids in front of my two. Uggghh! Put your shoes on guys, we're leaving.

This was the beginning of the end. The whining ensued, followed closely by the bickering, and then all out anarchy. We tried to pacify them with food. They hated the mac and cheese. We tried to let them play in Children's Ikea . They broke a tent. We tried letting them take their own notes and measure things. They left pencils and paper askew over every display area.

This was just the older two. #3 started screaming, literally screaming, it's his new thing, at lunch and did not stop until we got on the road to home. He ate about 4 inches of a measuring strip, he unpacked every single item out of his diaper bag, and ate through all of the snacks that we brought (he's a hungry dude).

But, my weren't they angels on the ride home? #2 fell asleep, #3 drank a bottle, and #1 is always a pleasure in the absence of #2. They were overstressed (so was I) so I forgive them. This time.

Reason 4,376

that moms are no longer respectable members of society. At least not us dumb ones.

I had our carpets professionally cleaned today.

Not sure why I wanted them to come in the middle of winter since they leave the front door wide open for the duration of the treatment. Oh well, I'm dumb.

Not only am I dumb, but apparently I live in a household with highly sophisticated saboteurs.

While the technician was having his way with our carpeting upstairs I had erected a series of barriers to keep #2 & #3 from running out of the house and absconding with the cleaning truck. When he completed his work, he called me over to barricade 1 to sign the paperwork. I realized that I had left my check book in the car so I entered the kitchen to get my keys so that I could retrieve it.

Mistake.

#3 had left a booby trap.

Apparently he's figured out how to open his sippy cups.

I slipped on his slippery land mine.

I didn't know I could do the splits. Actually, I can not do the splits which maybe explains why my hip is throbbing.

The technician didn't laugh too hard. And, at least he asked if I was okay first. And, to make me feel less like the dummy I am, he shared a horrifying story of his own with me. So, thanks, that made me feel a little better. Not a lot, but a little.

One quick question though for my little assassin in training: did you have to put the top back on the cup to disguise your dirty dealings?

You may have won this battle, but you have not won the war.

I'm still in this thing.

You have not seen the last of me.

I'm gonna get you sucka!

Photo of the Day

YEAH! I finally got my camera back! This shot sums up our weekend though which I will gladly recount in a long winded future post.

Is that a shoe?

Yes. It was a shoe. It was a shoe that was being launched at the head of #3 from the maniacal little hands of #2. The saddest part was that #3 was laughing uncontrollably. I think he was delirious from the intense pain. When I was standing in the kitchen listening to it all transpire I was so pleased to hear the sounds of joy, not the usual sounds of torture, coming from the next room. The only thing that I found a little suspect was the repeated thudding of something hitting the wall. I didn't investigate immediately b/c I was enjoying my few stolen moments to read the newspaper headlines. I thought, it couldn't be so bad b/c I had responsibly trapped #3 in his Exersaucer. He could not escape. My joy, however, was, as always, short lived b/c as I rounded the corner and saw a number of shoes surrounding the Exersaucer and my mini masochist sitting there cackling hysterically as a Nike trainer bounced off his head I knew for sure that these people can not be trusted. #2 is most definitely insane. He actually told me that the baby "liked it". I know that the kid was sending mixed signals, but c'mon. Even a four year old must know that people, normal people at least, do not like having footwear thrown at their heads. Seriously. At least he had the decency to use only child sized shoes.

Lesson for the dumb: Don't buy shoes. They hurt people.

Photo of the Day

I really am dumb. I left my camera @ Mimi's house so I have to go to the archives for today's photo. And yes, #2 is freakin' nuts!

Check out my blog

@ the paper. As a community service project I am helping people identify and label dumb moms. Based on some of what I experience, it's the least I can do to prevent widespread misunderstanding. Basically, I want people to know that there is a huge difference between us moms that suck on occasion (by force or by choice), and those moms who suck consistently (primarily by choice). Thanks for looking.

It's a Library...

Not a daycare center! I know I said that I wasn't going to post so much, but this one can not be avoided. Let me just say that even I, dumb mommy extraordinaire, was able to spot the lunacy of this fellow mommy. As someone prone to making numerous dumb mistakes when it comes to child rearing, I try to refrain from passing judgements on others who find themselves thrown under the bus by the little people who rule their lives. Okay, I pass judgement (I'm human), but I usually do my best to only share my cruelest remarks on the negligent breeders of the world with Mimi and BFF who are used to my evil rantings and know that despite my ability to cast aspersions, remarkably accurate though they may be, on various unsuspecting mommies (actually anyone who sucks) I really am a pretty nice gal; at least I intend to be, I think. Anyway, point is that I am notorious for biting my tongue in the presence of ignorance and while this instance is no difference (I was visibly horrified, but verbally mute) I did find this incident worthy of public notification by way of blog. So, here goes.

As previously mentioned, the library is not a daycare center. Far from it, actually. In my experience the library, when it comes to the preschool set, is a place to familiarize your child to the awesome and useful items known as books. It is to be shared WITH you child so that they gain an appreciation for the written word and how it can be a part of your life. Right? Most community libraries have a children's department featuring decor, furniture, and multimedia dedicated to the interests of children. Some libraries, like mine, also feature a limited number of children's toys and puzzles as well to be enjoyed independently by older children and with parental supervision by younger ones. Feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

What the library is not however, is a place where you unleash the wrath of a seemingly possessed miniature hellion who has no ability to share, on unsuspecting mothers and their moderately well behaved children. It is not a place meant for a wild eyed three year old diva to scream at the top of her lungs declaring that not only are all of the books hers, but she is also in supreme command of the toys, puzzles, and games as well. And, I see no place in the library for said 3 year old to push, snatch, and grab at the other visiting small people while knowingly ignoring the requests of other mommies that she stop. I'm sure we have all been in a situation in which our own little monster, I mean child, has unleashed some ugly on the innocent bystanders while at a play date, party, etc. You all know I've been there. But, what sent me over the edge on this one is that Little Miss Manners' mommy was no where to be found. At one point the girl was banging on the window yelling for her mom to not leave her (mom went to her car). Finally after a good 20 minutes of torture, the mom showed up, stack of books in hand, and asks : "Is she hurting anyone?" WHAT? You were aware that Veruca Salt had social interaction issues, yet you thought you'd peruse the new adult fiction titles instead of watch her? This is the part where I stood, visibly horrified, unable to utter a word. A much more eloquent mom informed Mom of the Year that Crazy Pants was "having a hard time sharing" to which Mommy Dearest replied, "share, share" and then quickly fled from the scene. I'm a huge proponent of "acting like I don't know them", but this display was little much. And for the obviously unobservant (I was actually reading to #2 & #3) mom who asked if Looney Tooney was mine, let me just say, um... hell no!

I'm sure all of you nicer, smarter, more understanding and altruistic moms out there are reading this feeling sorry for little Naughty McNaughty, and I tried that at first. So, if you need someone to feel sorry for think about #3 who she whacked in the head with a rocking chair simply because he thought he'd pick up a book from the neighboring table, he's visibly bruised.

This is hard!

Recently I have found myself thinking these words as I sit in front of my computer, eyes bulging out of my head, as I gaze at my computer and anxiously click on the growing number of blogs I'm responsible for. I originally started doing this as one element of my photography business, but then I decided to start this parenting blog (or non parenting blog?) and things have begun to get out of hand. I now have little time to check the discussion boards of the 40+ (just counting very active ones) flickr groups that I belong to, my life as a blogger stalker has all but disappeared, and my DVR currently only has 4% available recording space left. Oh, and my house is a wreck, my kids are wearing questionably clean clothing, and for dinner last night we had grilled cheese sandwiches. I have got to get control of this situation! Now, to ice my horribly baked cake, my parents just left on their 10 day European vacation. Great for them, bad for me (& kids), b/c Mimi is a major element of the Keep Mommy Together Team. She comes over at least twice a week to help out, ie play with kids, so that I can catch up on tasks that have gone by the wayside, like showering, and combing out my hair. Ten days without a shower is a very long time. Anyway, point is that I am going to have to get my priorities in order, which means that I will be cutting back on my blogging in order to free up space on my DVR. Instead of posting on here daily, I will be linking to the newspaper blog that I run also. Don't worry b/c they require "exclusivity" there will be no overlapping stories. So if you want to know what the dummies and the dudes are up to when I'm not blogging away on this site, you'll have to check over there.

Books for Boys CLub

This week's book of choice is Indiana Jones: The Ultimate Guide, by Jim Luceno. This is one of those titles that is jammed packed with detailed photographs and useless captions that borders on being a sensory overload. What makes this book so awesome is that if your boys are anything like mine, you will find that your presence while they are interacting with this book is not needed, appreciated, or desired. We checked this one out last week and they have spent countless minutes fully involved with this book without one bit of fighting, tattling, or whining! Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it? Dummy that I am, I have been unsuccessful at finding many other activities that have been able to quell the savage beast that unfurls when my boys are within eye shot of one another. But, leave it to Indiana Jones to waltz in here and have them on their best behavior in moments. I knew this book would be a hit since we own the entire Indiana Jones outfit, which they fight over, and my oldest son aspires to become an archaeologist like the great Dr. Jones. I don't have the heart to tell him that if there are actually Russian spies chasing him, he's going to need a lot more than a leather whip to save his life.

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
I spent yesterday,
immersed in some poo.

Baby 3 stank,
had quite a ripe smell.
I think I was in
my own personal hell.

He pooped at the restaurant.
He pooped on the floor.
And after his nap,
he went poop some more.

Today must be better
it's all I can say.
'Cause if it's not
I'll hate Valentine's Day.



*For the record, #3 has chronic diarrhea and this incident is in no way isolated or acute. This should make you feel even more sympathetic for our situation b/c this means we are immersed in poop at least 3-4 days per week. It really stinks.

Yeah for me!

Just wanted to let everyone know that I will be running a similar blog for my local newspaper. Had to change the name (it's called Maybe Mommy's a Dummy) and the posts will be a bit different, but I hope you check it out too if you get a chance. Thanks for all of you who are such loyal followers of my insanity. It will get worse before it gets better.

Photo of the Day

Holy smokes, Batman. In case you didn't know this is Batman. This is not #2 dressed up as Batman; this is actually Batman. And, if you are dumb enough to forget and use #2's Mommy given name you will be Bataranged with a quickness.

Unusual

As we drove to Target yesterday, #2 thought it was a perfect time to discuss weddings. For all of you who are aware of his obsession with marriage let me just say that I have recently been able to convince him that 6 is really a much better time to take a wife. He has reluctantly agreed that he will wait two years max and then he will be settling down with the grill (not a typo, this is how he pronounces girl) of his dreams. Getting back to yesterday's discussion. After hearing me over analyzing the wedding scene from He's Just Not That into You (cute movie btw) on my cell phone, he thought to ask me what a wedding was. I explained to him that it is "a celebration two people have with all of their family and friends to say that they love each other." His remark: "unusual". Wait, what does that mean? What part of my wedding definition did he find so unusual? I couldn't let it go (of course I couldn't), so I asked him. He said that he thought it unusual that they would need to have a party to say they loved each other because we say it all of the time without a party. I found this statement to be heartrendingly sweet and mildly annoying at the same time. In essence, he defined what many people forget when they are unknowingly turning into bridezillas, wreaking havoc on friends and family while planning the wedding of their dreams: that they should be focusing on the marriage of their dreams, not the 6 hour, $30,000 event that will leave them bloated, broke, and blurry eyed the next morning. On the flip side, however, I see the man that he will become and am a bit sympathetic for the nice, sweet, chaste, hand-picked-by-mom grill who succumbs to his charm as she attempts to wrangle him down the aisle toward wedded bliss. It's a fine line we mothers tread and I'll be the first to admit that I did nothing to help the cause of the future women in his life b/c my response was, "You're right, Sweety. And, mommy already loves you the most, so you never need to worry about having a wedding, you can just stay with me." He happily agreed.

Photo of the Day

Let me just say that the stove was NOT on. He set this one up all by himself; he pulled out the drawer and climbed up there. I was actually standing at the end of our counter taking a picture of my older son and when I looked up, low and behold, #3 was attempting to help himself to an after dinner snack of dinner (see http://parentingbydummies.blogspot.com/2009/01/3.html for more info). He can't help it, he's hungry.

Let Me Out!

Okay, I know what this looks like. Like he is fed up with living the dumb life, right?! I know you will not believe me when I say this, but really he just recently learned how to open the door, sort of. His strategy doesn't work 100% of the time (pushing v. pulling, standing right behind v. standing to one side) which leads to an immeasurable amount of frustration. Couple that with the fact that mommy is actually taking pictures of this frustration as opposed to actively solving the problem and you have a very angry, maybe even livid just turned one year old on your hands. Good morning, everyone!

Photo of the Day

Some people are just naturally cooler than others.

Photo of the Day

A special treat from someone sweet!

Books for Boys Club

Something new I wanted to try. Don't act so surprised, we do read to them! I just thought it would be fun to share some of their favorite books with everyone. Lots of them you have probably heard of, some of them might be new, but all of them will be fully endorsed by a 3 year old, a 7 year old, or a 1 year old little dude. Enjoy! Oh, and I will link to the book on amazon so you can easily check it out (and buy it) for yourself!

I Stink! by Kate Mcmullan

So, the first book to make it on to the list is I Stink! by Kate Mcmullan. I have to be honest, I fully HATE reading this book. Something about the cadence and the loud, obnoxious words just bugs me. So, as can be expected, my 3 year old LOVES, LOVES, LOVES this book. Up until a couple of days ago, I read it pretty much on a daily basis (may have something to do with my loathing). I finally couldn't take it anymore so I "accidentally" dropped it behind his dresser (where many things end up, strange), took him to the library, and got Trashy Town, by Andrea Zimmerman on audio tape. Not to detract from the current book, but I must say that this is a fun audio tape (pleasant voice, super jazzy music), that you might want to check out also. Anyway, if you are one of the few moms of boys who have not had the pleasure of growling, I meaning reading, I Stink! to your little dude you should check it out b/c I guarantee he will enjoy it, especially if you employ all of the grizzly sound effects this one begs for.

Photo of the Day

Hard time choosing today. We had a little impromptu session since school was delayed 2hrs. Want to see the honorable mentions? thenagainphotography.blogspot.com

I Love you butt

grammatically incorrect, slightly inappropriate, music to my ears. This is what #2 said to me as I tucked him in for his nap this afternoon. Sometimes he says the sweetest things. Honestly, I can not name one other person on the planet, including myself, who would agree with this statement. What a doll:)

Just Say No

6 Seemingly Harmless Movies Boys Should NEVER Watch

1. Nacho Libre. They quote this film incessantly. During #1's preparation for the science fair they repeatedly informed me that in all actuality, "That's not science". Additionally, they have become obsessed with stretchy pants. Scary. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yraIaeMBbj0
2. School of Rock. "And you're gonna be a funny little footnote on my epic ass." This is a direct quote from Jack Black's character, Dewey as it was retold to me by my 3 year old when I told him he was gonna get into trouble for being rough with his brother. In his defense, he was truly shocked (and extremely disappointed to discover that ass is actually a naughty grown up word).
3. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Or anything with a catchy (but annoying) theme song. It's like they never, ever forget these songs, and sadly neither do you.
4. Ace Ventura. Since this is quite an old movie I'm not even sure where they saw this. Uproariously funny IMO, but not so much when your 3 year old greets your in-laws by bending over and using his backside as his mouth. "Hello Grandma and Grandpa, would you like a breath mint?" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DrRE1LDY_U
5. Little Mermaid. My 7 year old gets so nervous he can barely watch the "Kiss the Girl" part. Actually, now that I think about it, he down right refuses to watch that movie any more. And, I am still trying to convince my 3 year old that it is not cool to soul kiss your mother. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ne4lIjgWTTs
6. Monster's Inc. It's not even a little bit okay for there to be a monster in your closet. I don't care how furry, cute, cuddly, personable or well meaning it is, it's just wrong. So, I threw this one behind the dresser and have yet to dig it out.

Moral: If you have to have it on, leave it on the Disney channel.

I'm Scared

I guess I should have called this blog parenting a 3 year old by dummies. Anyway, here goes. I have recently (within the last year) taken up running. Okay, not running, I guess it's more like jogging, or super fast foot shuffling, or something, whatever. Not important. What is important is that on one of my less planned out ventures into super fast foot shuffling I geared up (it was FREEZING, and apparently icy) and hit the street. No, I literally hit the street. I slipped on ice, tore my pants, bloodied my knee, and limped home (not too far since it happened in my driveway!) crying like a baby. Needless to say it was a traumatizing experience for the entire dummy household. Fast forward a few weeks. I had a friend over with her little boy for a play date where I was recounting my harrowing tale of icy super fast foot shuffling. She (appropriately) was laughing hysterically while the runts played nearby. At a momentary lull in the laughter #2 felt it was the perfect time to inform her through clenched teeth that "It's not funny, it's serious". She tried to straighten up and explain that in retrospect the incident was a bit comical, but it was too late. He silently threw daggers at her with his eyes obviously uninterested in her meager attempts to back pedal. As he skulked into the play room casting evil spells her way all she could say was, "I'm scared of him now." You should be, my friend. You should be.

Photo of the Day

New element I plan to post on a daily (or semi daily, or day I can remember) basis. Enjoy!

That's Serious

My DH recently hit a deer with his car. This incident has tainted many of his daily interactions since it was mildly traumatizing and extremely annoying. Now that you know the history, let me tell you a story! My boys love jokes. They like hearing them and even more, they like telling them. Now, their jokes are not funny. They are actually so not funny, that they often cause you to laugh hysterically. And, the more you laugh the more they tell, and the more they tell, the worse they get. It's a vicious cycle. One thing that we like to do in the car is to tell these not funny, but funny jokes. Currently they are obsessed with the "why did the _____ cross the road" type joke. The blank is normally filled by some random object in the vicinity that catches their eye. For example, I just asked my three year old to tell me a joke. As if on cue he said "why did the rice crispy treat cross the road?" (guess what he's having for snack) "Why," I asked? "To get to the other side!" (ah, but of course) Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. Like I could make this stuff up! Anyway. Our last out of town car trip was a nightmare (horrible car accident, tons of traffic), but we did have plenty of quality time to watch two family films and tell countless jokes. As we were nearing home my husband decided to take a turn in the joke pool. Knowing exactly how to tickle their collective funny bones he asks, "Why did the deer cross the road?". "Why?" they literally screamed with joyful anticipation. Okay, wait for it, wait for it..."Because he wanted to get hit by a car!". Crickets. Yep, his response was met by crickets. No laughing, no giggling, no nothing. Finally, my seven year old breaks the silence by saying, "Daddy, that's not funny, that's serious." Way to tell the politically incorrect joke, Dad! Animal's have rights too, that's no laughing matter. Needless to say, that was the last joke of the night as we spent the last 15 minutes in the car in silence. Even the one year old sensed the change in the car and appropriately spared us his delightful (or excruciating as the case may be) ramblings for the remainder of the trip.