Three Tre-isms to brighten your day
While working on his timeline of the Classical World (600 BC to 800 AD), Tre leaned back and said thoughtfully, "You know, if you don't space the words 'Han Dynasty' right, you end up with 'Handy Nasty'"
"Hey, Mom," he called from the kitchen, "see this cinnamon?" He held up a baggie I'd recently bought from the bulk section, "Why is it on the chopping block? It says right here it's ground cinnamon." And he tossed it to the floor.
I'd sent him off to put ointment on his dry, scaly lips. He'd protested, but relented when his protests caused his lip to crack and bleed. Lovely. A few minutes later he wandered back into the living room. I peered at his still-scaly lips and said in my best stern-mom tone, "Tre? Did you go put lip stuff on like I told you to?"
"YES." He was wounded - WOUNDED by my mistrust.
"Are you SURE?"
"YES."
"On your actual LIPS?"
"Oh...no."
Eek. I'm almost scared to ask. WHERE had he....?
Posted by:Loth | December 13, 2007 at 02:05 PM
How old is Tre? He and my 13 year old son, Oliver might have been separated at birth. Though I distinctly remember giving birth to only one boy that day ...
Posted by:Flea | December 13, 2007 at 07:29 PM
Forget adolescent angst, and just think, "more blog fodder!"
Posted by:Groovecatmom | December 13, 2007 at 10:05 PM
P.S. My day is almost over seeing as how it's after 10 p.m., but it is still very bright now!
Posted by:Groovecatmom | December 13, 2007 at 10:05 PM
I really am wondering - where did he put it?
Posted by:Amma Always | December 14, 2007 at 05:49 AM
I'm with Amma. Where the heck do you put lip balm if not on your lips? Inquiring minds need to know.
Posted by:kristy | December 14, 2007 at 03:04 PM
Puh-lease tell us where he put the lip balm. I am dying to know. :)
Posted by:Caren | December 17, 2007 at 02:02 PM
Awesome and hilarious.
Posted by:Rae | December 20, 2007 at 01:36 PM
Merry Christmas!
Posted by:Anne | December 22, 2007 at 10:03 AM
Sorry to leave you all in suspense about where the lip balm ended up. My understanding is that he went downstairs, full of the intent to anoint his lips, and somewhere between the bottom of the stairs and his room, he was sidetracked by...well, anything really. He meandered around for a bit, then bounded back up the stairs. Having gone to all the trouble to DECEND the STAIRS like that, he felt fully justified, therefore affronted by my questioning. It was only upon questioning that the error in his plan was revealed.
Thus, a nag is born.
Posted by:Kira | December 27, 2007 at 12:45 PM