Sometimes I wish everyone could just spend five minutes with my children so they understand what I have to go through each and every day. There is NEVER a quiet moment in this house. Some lady on Twitter was telling me last week that, if she ever had a baby, she wanted a boy because she said, “boys are quiet.”
BAAAAAAA haa haa haaaaaa haa ha. First, I asked her if she was fucking HIGH. Then I explained to her that my boys are not ever quiet. NOT. EVER.
I think that my 2 yr old thinks that if he ever closes his mouth, it won’t ever open again. When he’s not telling me all about his every move, he’s mimicking his brother. When he’s not mimicking his brother, he’s singing to himself. Loudly. He lays in bed and sings himself to sleep. He croons “Weeeee allll live in a yelllow submareeeen” from the backseat every time we get in the car. Yeah, sure, it’s cute, but it AIN’T “quiet.”
And my 4 yr old is Mr. Personality. He’s always had a thing for charming the pants off adults. When my friends come over, he’s more interested in playing with them than he is the kids they brought with. He corners every new person he sees and drags them into conversation, whether they like it or not. Anyone whose ever spent 5 minutes with Jonas can attest that he is A.) NOT shy, and B.) could never had made it in the times when children were supposed to be seen and not heard.
Over the fall, we were at a football game and suddenly I looked around and said “Where’s Jonas?!?!” Oh, he was about 10 feet over on the bleachers, completely surrounded by a group of high school girls that he had managed to wrap around his little finger. This seems to happen everywhere we go. The kid simply wants to talk to everybody. He’s afraid of no one.
In so many ways, this is adorable and cute and endearing, and in so many other ways, it chips away at my sanity with every tick of the clock.
There are times when Jonas’s motormouth humiliates the living shit out of me. About a month ago, we were at the treehouse in the mall when Jonas spotted a mother and son who were missing both of their arms. It was obviously a hereditary birth defect of some sort, though I have no idea what exactly.
Jonas started yelling (so everyone, including the armless mother and son can hear), “Mommy! They have no arms! Mommy, mommy, mommy! LOOK MOM! They have NO ARMS! Why don’t they have arms, Mom?!!?!”
I felt terrible for these people. I mean, clearly THEY know that they have no arms, but my kid didn’t need to be screaming it at the top of his lungs. I knew Jonas wasn’t going to give up asking loud questions until he got to the bottom of this no-arm situation, so I told him, “Listen, why don’t you just go make friends with the little boy, and you can ask him yourself why he doesn’t have arms.”
I have no idea if that was the right way to handle it. I’m not sure there was a right way. Unfortunately my kids’ motormouths did NOT come with an instruction manual. Or an “Off” button.
Of course, this weekend, we were right back in that type of situation again – but this time, Jonas’s retelling of the story had me in so many stitches, I was thrilled that he was born the Motormouth of the Midwest.
We were at one of John’s basketball games – Daddy is an IHSA certified reffing official who works every weekend and some weeknights reffing games for local high schools, park districts, and men’s leagues. So Saturday we were in the bleachers watching Daddy do his thing when in came a man with two hooks for hands. The man sat right behind us.
Ah fuck. Jonas immediately zeroes in on The Man with No Hands, and here it comes… twenty loud questions. “Mommy! Mommy! Why does he have that on his hands?!! What is that??? Where are his hands?!?”
Seriously? Just kill me now.
So I tell Jonas, “Listen, why don’t you just go over and talk to the man. Maybe he’ll tell you why he has hooks for hands.” I mean, Jesus, my son, The Cruise Ship Director, had already made friends with half the people in the bleachers – why not this guy too?
So Jonas did just that. He went up The Man with No Hands, introduced himself, and had a solid five minute conversation with the man. When he came to sit back on my lap, I didn’t ask him then what they talked about, and Jonas never looked back at the man again. I knew once his curiosity was quenched, the staring and finger-pointing would be over. Jonas turned his attention to the game and that was that.
But later…. Here’s where I almost pissed my pants laughing.
Daddy, me, and Grandma are finishing up our dinner and I say to Jonas,
“So Jonas, tell me what you and The Man with No Hands talked about.”
Jonas replies, “Oh! Yeah! Well, he told me he lost his hands when he was a little boy.”
I say, “Okay, well did you ask him how he lost his hands?”
Jonas reasserts, “Yes, he told me – he said he LOST his hands when he was a LITTLE BOY.”
Still wondering if there’s more to the story, I ask again, “Okay, but did he say what happened to his hands?”
to which Jonas confidently states, “Yes, he lost his hands, and then he couldn’t find them.”
BAAAAAAA haa haa haaaaaa haa ha. Of course. How could I be so stupid?
The adults in the room all howl with laughter, and I nearly lose control of my bladder. Yeah, maybe my kids don’t know how to just shut the fuck up sometimes, but I have to say, in times like this, the things coming out of their mouths are hella entertaining. You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both, and there you have…. Spirited children. God love ‘em.
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There’s a reason that the old TV show “Kids Say the Darndest Things” had such high ratings – it’s cause that shit is hilarious. Do you have your own KSTDT to relay? Oh please do so… I LOVE hearing them. If you can link us to a video of your kid saying some hilarious shit, that would be even better.
When my son was somewhere around 3 or so, we went to the grocery store. He was sitting in the trolley and I was pushing him along when "Look MOMMY that lady is BIG!!" in his little boy loud voice. "Yes," I replied, "Some people are big, some are little, that's what makes the world an interesting place." Mentally patting myself on the back for handling that so well - I made sure the woman could hear me. "I'm getting big" he replied. "Yes, you are getting bigger every day". His response? "My peepee's big!!". Every head swivelled in my direction as I ducked my head muttering, "Great son, thanks for sharing."
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