ABBA-cadabra

For those of you who are ABBA fans, this will be funnier.

I was cooking dinner last night but I was afraid it would take too long to cook and be ready for the kids to eat before bed. I knew that we had some chicken tikka (a very mild Indian dish) left over from a dinner with my brother so I figured that it would be my fall back. After a while of cooking, the natives became restless and started asking about dinner.

Mary: Mom, what are we having for dinner?
Me: Well, if I can get it done, then we will have this turkey. If not, there is some chicken left over.
Mary: I will just have the chicken.
Me: Oh, yeah? Did you like it?
Mary: (singing) Chicken Tikka tell me whats wrong…

For those of you unfamiliar with the song, the actual lyrics are ‘Chiquitita tell me whats wrong’. Now I will never be able to listen to Chiquitita without thinking of Indian food!

It is not the first time that my kids have made up their own versions of ABBA songs, however, and strangely enough it always seems to center around food. About two years ago we went out to Dairy Queen with the grandparents and kids in tow. As we walked down the sidewalk I hear from behind me:

“Cause you are the Dairy Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen”

This Dancing Queen rendition (by I believe Mary once again) was accompanied by the appropriate amount of dancing.

Too young to worry about money

Paul and I were explaining to the kids that we were not going to take some of our normal trips this year due to Paul pending knee surgery and the possible effects of sequestration hanging over our heads. Later that weekend, the kids noticed that the squirrels were on the bird feeder again and started thinking about ways to keep them off. It was very cute and they were really putting some thought into their ideas then my 6 year-old son says, "yeah, but money is tight right now so I don't think we will be able to do any of those things". The solemn expression on his face and the forehead gently resting in his hand just added to my snickers.

Marty sunk the Titanic

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.