My youngest son wins the prize this week. He had me laughing several times, along with entertaining a bunch of teen girls at the tennis courts with his wild stories. Here are three:
1) I turned around yesterday to see him playing basketball . . . wearing this.
I still can’t figure out why he’s dressed as Sulley from Monsters, Inc. He must have seen it in the dress-up box and thought, “Wow! Look at that sweet slam dunking costume!”
When I turned and started laughing, he got super embarrassed. He tore that costume off faster than anything I’ve seen. But I caught him several other times putting it back on to play some hoops. I had to bribe him to get his picture.
2) This is the same kid who told me this week, “Before I was a baby, I was a cat.”
I said, “Oh, really?”
“Yes. I was a cat, and I looked out the window and saw a shark standing up in the backyard.”
With a few probing questions, I realized he was 100% serious. He honestly thinks he was a cat before he was a baby. Reincarnation isn’t something we’ve taught in our home, but apparently he’s picked it up from somewhere.
(We have two cats. Maybe he thinks they’ll turn into babies soon.)
Being the kind of mother I am, I can’t leave it alone. I tell the other kids and their friends about this funny phenomenon. At tennis, they start asking him a hundred questions about what it was like to be a cat.
“Did you like having a tail?” “What color were you?” “Did you eat mice?”
Still completely convinced, he answered every single one. “Yes.” “Gray.” “No, that’s gross!
Oh, we had such a good laugh.
My husband started to correct him at dinner. I jumped up so fast, I probably scared him. But why crush his dream that he was a cute, furry cat once? There are only a few short years where belief in things like cross-species changes is possible.
He’ll learn soon enough.
3) Last Saturday we spent the day at Kensington Metropark, a gorgeous lake in Southeast Michigan.
We had a blast. The guys spent most their time fishing, while us girls and our previous feline 4yo spent our time swimming.
My eldest caught the largest fish, a largemouth bass (at least, we think that’s what it is).
My father-in-law said, “Let’s cook it for dinner.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!
We are catch and release kinda people. We don’t eat fish. EVER.
Everyone always tells me, “Oh, just try tilapia” — or halibut, or whatever — “and it won’t taste fishy. You’ll love it!”
Here’s some news for you. It always tastes fishy! Always. Stop pretending it doesn’t because it makes anti-fish-ites like myself angry.
But I digress.
My former feline 4yo jumped on Grandpa’s idea. “Yeah, let’s eat it!” Must be the cat talking.
Picture my face here. Something uglier and meaner than the fish. But I tried to smile through my gritted teeth. “Yeah. Let’s eat it.”
That’s when the 4yo grew serious. “But only if it’s cooked, dry, and not moving.”
He repeated this sentiment the whole way home. COOKED. DRY. And NOT MOVING. I can understand the cooked and not moving part. Especially the not moving part since my husband neglected to fully kill the thing and it flopped around in a grocery bag for five minutes right behind our heads. Traumatizing to my son and me. But I still can’t figure out the dry thing. Why was that such an adamant necessity?
By the time Grandpa had it cooking over the stove, the 4yo added, “And not talking.”
I suppose when he was a cat he saw a lot of talking fish.
I am happy to report that every single one of us anti-fish-ites tried that bass. Grandpa smothered it with herbs and butter so it was actually pretty good. (Don’t tell anyone I admitted that.) And like requested, Grandpa made sure the fish was COOKED, DRY, NOT MOVING, and NOT TALKING.
Well, that’s just a little of what made me laugh this week. How about you? Any funny stories you want to share?