So, either our kids have been incredibly well behaved during the last three months or I have been too busy to notice the funny stuff. I kind of doubt the former and I am showing signs of the latter.
I don't know why, but everything in our house (everything funny anyway) seems to happen at bedtime and when I have a migraine. So at bedtime last night when my head was pounding, I should have steeled myself against the inevitable.
Everyone was getting their jammies on, Marty says that he is out of clean underwear so I go into the girls room to grab some from the clean laundry basket. I pass Paul on the way out as he is giving the girls kisses and hugs. As I walk back into Marty's room, I am greeted by a sight that no mother should witness. My five year old son is lounging (the only word that can describe it appropriately)on his bed, naked as a jay-bird with one hand behind his head and the other one covering up his junk. He looks up and smiles at me. I fled the room before my head exploded. By this time Paul has finished saying goodnight to the girls and is staring at his wife who has apparently just gone insane because she is crying, leaning over the railing, trying to laugh as silently as possible, while waving a stack of clean underwear in the air. He goes into Marty's room.
"Son, get your jammies on. NOW"
Paul walks back to me, looks into my eyes and with a quiet and sincere voice says,
"I want you to paint me like one of your French girls, Jack."
I can't tell you what happened after that because my head finally exploded.
No comments:
Post a Comment