Hail? no

Today I enjoyed the ride in to school with Joel at 10:30. (Snow delay, so we were chatting about weather.)

His voice was sweet. I love that it's still high, and regret that I can't remember exactly when his older brothers' voices changed. So I tuned in carefully as much to the melody of his voice as to the words he was saying.

Per usuale, football entered the conversation. His segue from weather to football was exquisite for a second grader:

"Mom, I don't like blizzards...or hail. But I like hail Marys! Like when I'm running with the football and yell, "hail Mary!" and the guy in the end zone goes deep and catches it. That's really cool."

Beauty "Defined" by the Young Negotiator

A girl loves to be pampered, but often a pricetag comes with it. Despite my hope that my seven-year-old son, Joel, would agree to just playing with my hair for ten minutes in return for all I do for him, I knew negotiations were about to ensue. The child is a born businessman.

"Hey, Joel, would you like to style my hair?"
"For money?" he asked, bright-eyed.
"No, for pleasure," I said.
"For YOUR pleasure, you mean."
"Yes."
"How about for 20 cents?" he chimed.
"How about for nothing, nothing but love?"
"How about for 2 cents?" he persisted.
"Well...is your 20-cent hairstyle any different from your 2-cent one?"
"No," he admitted. "It just lasts longer."

I caved and signed up for the 20-center.

------
A few minutes later, as he is brushing hair back behind my ears, smoothing it down
with his soft, nimble fingers:
"I'm making it look defined," he said.
"You're making me look divine?" (I pretended to misunderstand.)
"No, I said 'defined.' Simple yet elegant."

Where does he get this stuff?

"Wait! That Wouldn't be Good for Me!"

Sarah started at Towson U today in the education program. The class she had at noon is taught by a professor who tells corny jokes the whole time. Sarah said, "He's worse than you, actually, Mom. Seriously."

Joel piped up, "Mom should just break up with Dad and marry that guy!"

And then he paused, thought about it, and said, "Wait! No, never mind. Don't do that. That wouldn't be good for me!"

I'm a Scientist

Joel was trying over and over to get a cheap plastic Slinky to go down the carpeted steps. After watching his pereseverence mingled with sighs, I said, "Joel, I just don't think that's ever going to work."

He said, "I'm a scientist. I keep going."

Chinese Waiter

After church yesterday, we went to Hunan Chef for lunch. The waiter who took our order
did not speak very good English. The guy who served our food and refilled our drinks, however, was quite fluent in our language.

I didn't realize the fluent waiter had barely walked away when Joel said, "He must have used Rosetta Stone."

We all cracked up.

The guy returned in a few minutes with more rice, and asked if everything was okay, and did we want more tea, he'd bring a new pot. We said more tea would be great, thanks. He headed to the kitchen.

Joel piped up again, "Yeh, that guy DEFINITELY used Rosetta Stone!"

Changed His Mind about Being a Dad

A few months ago (when he was maybe six or just turned seven), Joel told me he didn't want to be a dad because "It's WAY too hard to raise a child."

Well, he changed his mind recently. Last night on the way to WalMart he said, "Mom, remember how I said I didn't want to be dad? Well, now I do."

"Oh, really?" I asked. "How come?"

"Because if you're a dad, you can just say, 'Bring me some chips' and your kid has to bring you chips. Or you say 'please hang this phone back up' and your kid has to hang it up."

Trying to hide my smile, I said, "So, then, you mean you want to have kids as slaves?"

"Yes. Exactly. I'm Slave Number 4."

What "Corny" Means

Joel had to accompany me to my Weight Watchers meeting yesterday (poor little guy). What 7 year old enjoys that?--
especially when, at the end, the leader says to the group, "Okay, now, I want everyone to stand and learn a cheer."

A cheer? Seriously? My cheerleading days ended in 10th grade. I'm grown up now. I don't pay 12 bucks a week to feel like an idiot. But if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. So we stood.

The leader gets everyone to stand and cross their arms below the waist, wrists up. Then she leads us in the "cheer" : we uncross them in a (less than) exuberant sweep while saying "hip, hip, away". That's it.

A few minutes later, after we were in the van, Joel says, "Hip, hip hooray? Mom, that cheer was dumb."

"Well, it wasn't 'hip, hip, hooray, it was 'hip, hip, away, as in 'make our big hips go away.'"

'That's just--"

"Corny?" I asked.

"Yeh, corny. You know what 'corny' means? It means "clever in a dumb sort of way.' "