At the bottom of the stairs
The love of my life...AND death

That which does not kill me...will when I blog it.

Sunday afternoon, we were all sitting around Mom and Dad's table, enjoying lunch. Mom feeds us lunch on Sundays, one of the many ways I am far more blessed than I deserve. Mmmmm. Lunch I didn't cook.

Where was I?

Oh, right. We were sitting there, after lapping up black bean soup, enjoying some ice cream, basking in the warm glow of family and love and (did I mention?) food that I didn't cook. Lovely. Max looked up from his bowl, a bright smile on his face, and said,

"Hey, you know what happened the other night?"

Oh lord, I thought, freezing, my hand clutching my spoon in midair, no no no, he's not going to -

"Dad was jumping on the bed!"

Oh no.

"WHAT?" said Raphael. "I'M not allowed to jump on the bed."

Please, God, just this once, could you override that whole "free will" deal and take away Max's ability to speak, and in return I will totally stop swearing in my head and calling other drivers jerks I promise please and amen.

"No, seriously. It was the middle of the night -"

I can't feel my fingers, I thought. This is like one of those dreams where everything is happening in sloooooowww moooootion, but you still are powerless to stop it. Max has been talking for weeks now. Can't he just STOP?

"You were probably dreaming, honey," Mom interjected, the angel of mercy that she is. Of course, if she really wanted to help, she would have lit a fire in the kitchen or something and cut the entire conversation short. Dad was looking hard at his empty ice cream bowl, his shoulders shaking, as he tried not to laugh out loud. Max was undeterrable.

"No, I had got up to go pee, and I heard this sound, like someone jumping on the bed - stop it, Dad." He waved Clay away from his ice cream bowl, where he had been dipping in his spoon in an attempt to distract Max. It wasn't working, damn the meds for all this stupid focus. "Anyhow, I heard this sound, so I went upstairs, but the bedroom door was LOCKED!"

Mom and Dad were both snickering at their ice cream bowls now. I tried to remember how to breathe, and wondered vaguely if it was possible for one's face to ACTUALLY burst into flames.

"Were you REALLY jumping on the bed?" Tre asked, incredulous. I seemed to have gone blind. I shook my head and coughed hard in my napkin.

"No," I gasped out, "of course not. Jumping on the bed IS NOT ALLOWED."

"Then why is everyone laughing so hard?" he asked.

Thirty seven isn't necessarily too young to have a stroke, I thought. Please, God, if you can't erase Max's last few sentences, you could take me home now, thanks, amen.

"And anyhow," Max finished, "they finally answered the door, and Dad had been jumping on the bed! In the middle of the night! He's such a goober."

And then I perished. But it was already way too late.



The thing that makes me laugh about this most is that eventually it's going to make sense to each one of those boys what was going on and they are going to have this moment when *DING!* this light bulb goes off and they snort their drink right out their noses.... so three years from now when Tre is sitting in the living room and something triggers a memory and he turns bright red, you'll know...he's suddenly figured out what it means when Clay is 'jumping on the bed'.

and then, when the boys are all moved out and grown and they get together and they are doing their brotherly bonding in the kitchen at Christmas while their wives sit in the other room, they will recount this story about Max, at Sunday lunch, telling everyone how bad Clay is for jumping on the bed. And although neither you or Clay will ever be present in the room, there will be brotherly razzing about the whole thing.



mmph mmmph ah ah ahahahahahaaaaaaaaa!!!!!


Oh Kira, you have made my day! Thank you for sharing.....despite the embarrassment factor!

Linda Sherwood

When my oldest was around two, she stayed the night at my mother-in-law's house. While there, she asked my mother-in-law, "Does grandpa breastfeed?" and then the lovely child went on to share, "Daddy does."

My mother-in-law, lovely woman that she is, did NOT share this tidbit with me until the middle of Thanksgiving dinner with 20 or so relatives and extended family members in attendance.


That is too funny. I agree with Wendy above, the funniest part is that one day the lightbulb will go off for Max.


Oh.My.GAWD. What is it with boys? And not shutting up? And we all know this is going to happen to me and Kira, I will be right there with you. Except, it won't be with my parents, who we'd laugh with about it, but Tom's parents. Then I'd have to die, come back, and die a couple dozen more times.


BWAHhahahahahahahaha! Oh noooooooooooo....

THAT is the funniest thing I've read in days. I'm sorry you had to die, but I'll think you manage to resurrect yourself somehow.


Duct tape. All parents should carry duct tape!

I just had the "talk" with my son when my older daughter walked into the room and asked what we were talking about. He replied, "SEX! And it's disgusting!"

Carolyn R.

De lurking to say - d'you think it'll fly with the 17 year old???? Yeah, probably not. You've made my day - especially after last night! Thanks.

Angela Klocke

Oh girl, your pain, I feels it, I do, I do!

But...too, too funny!


SNORT!! It's really a happy story though, because everything is as it's supposed to be.


That. was. awesome.


De-lurking to say: When I was about 35 it finally occurred to me that my father was NOT doing jumping jacks (as I had always assumed) in the middle of the night in the bedroom above mine . . . .

Lisa in NJ

OMG I'm sorry but that is to funny. You can laugh at me in a few years when my son walks in on me. LOL He's 6 now so it will be my turn to die soon. I can't stop laughing. LOL Great story.

shannon in oregon

oh! mah! gawd!

too funny!!!


Totally priceless story Kira. Thanks for sharing. I wish you many more nights of jumping on the bed.


Well, at least you remembered to lock the door? Wonderful memory, wonderful you can laugh about it. Can't wait for the installment where they 'get' it.


I am thankful for the lock on the door. I am thankful for the loud doors, floors, etc. in this old house that alert us to unauthorized kid movement. Still, I know there will probably come a time....

My sudden realization moment unfortunately came one evening at 16 when I knocked on then opened my parents' bedroom door to let them know I was home about half an hour before curfew. *shudder* I think they'd been counting on me pushing curfew like always.

no comment =]
love ya

Hala J.

Hey--new commenter here.

Wow...if I hadn't read this in my college library I'd be cracking up so bad!!! It was hard enough trying to contain myself. Ah, the perks of having kids, eh?


hahahahahhaa... Oh mercy, Kira.... lol - that is just toooo funniee! Thank god for locks!

Max said it better, "He's such a goober"

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