Saturday, February 26, 2011

Mama Said There'd Be...

Ever have days where the kids just wake up stupid??

No, seriously.

I swear if I went and looked under my children's beds today, there would be large puddles of gray matter oozing around under there. They simply woke up and forgot to put in their brains.

First, M1 forgot to turn off his alarm clock, which automatically resets each morning, so he woke up at 6:38 a.m. I went in and told him it was Saturday and to go back to sleep, and then I got up around 7:15 to use the bathroom and he was still in his room (and M2 was asleep, hanging upside down off the side of her bed, presumably letting her brain leak out in the process), so I went back to sleep. Oz, however, was asleep on the couch and said they came in shortly after 7:30 at the latest.

He was awake, but the kids aren't used to him sleeping on the couch and they weren't sure what they could get away with, so they performed a rather Inception Cat-like routine. Oz had fun with it. He was awake and could hear them whispering.

M1: He's awake.

M2: No, he isn't.

M1: Yes, he is. Watch his eyes.

M2: But he's not moving, and Daddy always moves when he's awake.

At this point, Oz twitched his eyes open for a second and both kids completely froze. It was like something out of Jurassic Park, where the scientists operate on the theory that the dinosaur can only find you if you're in motion. Oz continued this for a while till M2 decided to get right up in his face and was literally close enough that he could feel her breath. He opened his eyes again.

"HI, DAD!!!!"

Chipper. That's the only word to describe how our daughter wakes up. When Oz came into the bedroom to change clothes and see if we wanted to go for another Saturday of beignets and cafe au lait (the answer was yes), he made the mistake of lying down on the bed. M2 promptly climbed on him, planted her knees in his solar plexus, and bounced while making joyful, elephant-like trumpeting noises. Keep in mind she's about 65 pounds and has pointed, bony joints. Pain happened.

M1, on the other hand, was exercising his lack of brain power to fall off of the couch and ottoman repeatedly. This was somewhat on purpose and somewhat a complete lack of muscle control. However, he really didn't function too badly until we were on our way to take M2 and I to her group violin lesson.

I had asked Oz to take M1 shopping for a few spring/summer clothes (Boy grew again. Wish he'd quit.) while we were at the lesson, but M1 didn't know that. So as M2 and I were walking across the street to the teacher's house, Oz yelled, "What size?"

I told him.

M1 heard him but didn't hear me and didn't know what Daddy was talking about.

"Where are we going?" he asked. "I heard you ask what size? What size of what?"

"What size drink," Oz lied. "She said a Big Gulp."

"Big Gulp is a computer game, not a drink!"

"Big Gulp is a size of drink at a 7-Eleven."

"What's a 7-Eleven?" (This isn't an odd question. We don't have 7-Elevens here. We have QuikTrip, which is 1000 times better. Trust me.)

"It's a convenience store," Oz replied as he drove away. Then he parked at Sears, which is close to the teacher's house.

"Why are we parking here?" M1 wanted to know.

"This is close to the 7-Eleven. It's only a mile away."

"A MILE?!?!?!? I don't want to walk a mile for a drink! My feet will get tired! I can walk a mile there, but I can't walk a mile back."

[At this point in the retelling, I'm dying of laughter.]

Oz walks into Sears. M1 follows.

"Why are we going in here?" he demanded.

"You have to go through the store to get to the 7-Eleven. It's on the way."

"Oh, okay."

[Still dying.]

They wander into the clothes section and have to pass escalators on the way.

"OH!!!" M1's light clicks on above his head. "I KNOW! The convenience store is really downstairs! I saw the escalators!!"

Oz, who has somehow managed to hold it together till this point, has to point out that they're standing in the clothes section and that they're there to find clothes for M1.

"WHAAAAAAT? That's BORING! I don't want clothes!"

[snort]

Oz helped him pick out three pairs of shorts and three shirts, which went a very long way to making M1's summer wardrobe complete. They probably would have gotten more except that M1 was done and ready to inflict his brainless brand of boredom on his sister again, which he did, all the way home. Not that she was an unwilling party to this. The giggling was deafening. Feet were flailing.

I've sent them to their (separate) rooms for a while to see if they can locate their cerebral matter. Here's to a day without brains.

Cheers!

3 comments:

Tina Michelle said...

That was pretty funny. Thanks for sharing.

Mom on the Verge said...

Have you considered the possibility of zombie invasion? It could explain their problem. Tidy zombies. With straws...

And Oz is hysterical!!! Lucky you!

Learning 4 Life said...

Well, at least your children act like they have brains the majority of the time :-) Most of our days are brainless days...I'm floored on the days my kids act like they have brains! Ha!