Lie to me next time.

Do not read this post if it is near a meal time.  You may feel the need to shower after this story.  You have been warned.

Names changed to Child 1 and Child A to protect the (not so) innocent.

So, while I was cleaning last week, I happened upon the door at the top of the stairs. It appeared to have crusty little flecks of, well, it looked like boogers to me.  I cleaned them off, and convinced myself that it wasn't what I thought it was. 

Later, I was talking with the kids over dinner.  (I forget where Lee was, but it was just me and the kids.)  The conversation turned to what I had done that day. 

Me: (in a joking, jovial mood)  Well, I cleaned upstairs.  Oh, and by the way, who left boogers on the door at the top of the stairs?

Child 1: Ew.  It wasn't me.
Child A: Ew.  It wasn't me.

Me: (still laughing) Oh, come on... who was it?

Child 1: Not me... that's gross!
Child A:  (looking shifty)  Wait.  Which door are you talking about?

Me and Child 1: Gross!

Me: The door at the top of the stairs.  For what possible reason would you have put boogers there?

Child A: Um... I forget.

Child 1: That is so disgusting!

Me to Child 1: Oh, come on, you know you do it too.  Where do you put yours?

Child 1: Well... I put some on the side of my bed.

The main problem with this as a teachable moment, is that I used to do the same thing when I was a kid.  I'll bet I'm not alone.  And, if I'm not, please don't tell me.

Yeah, I'm a beast...

That spot on my back that can't be reached itched the other day, so instead of asking for someone with cold hands to scratch it I backed into a door frame and rubbed against it.
Habtamu walked by looking at me oddly.
"My back itches," I said, as if I needed to explain myself.
He smiled, "When did you become a buffalo, Dad?"

Not Me.

If he hadn't caught me so offguard, I would have asked him where he learned that. I still don't know.

Great vocabulary, no plot.

In the Gardner household, there is often reading material sitting in the bathroom. These days a 900 page Michener novel mysteriously appeared across from the toilet and hasn't moved in a while. Yoyo brought it to me in my bedroom figuring it would make a good conversation starter.

Yo: Dad, this book is 800 pages.
Me: Yep.
Yo: It's huge.
Me: Yep.
Yo: I can't believe mom can read a book this big. Can you believe it?
Me: Nope.
Yo: Well actually... *flip-flip-flip* it's 879 pages.
Sensing a teachable moment and a real-life opportunity to use those estimation skills she's been honing in math I say: So 879 pages is almost...
Yo: ...a dictionary. I'll put it back in the bathroom now.

Third Degree from Little Mamma

So Saturday morning Yordanos is in my grill sometime before 8am while I'm still in bed.

Yo: Good morning Dad.
Me: What? UGH. Morning. Zzzzz
Yo: Were you with Marty last night?
Me: Yes.
Yo: Did you play guitar?
Me: Yes.
Yo: How late were you out?
Me: What?
Yo: How. Late. Were. You. Out?
Me: Uuuuugh... Umm... after midnight.
Yo: That's late.
Me: Yes.
Yo: Did you go to one of those bar places?
Me: Yes.
Yo: Was it big?
Me: No. It was small.
Yo: Did you have adult drinks?
Me: Yes.
Yo: Did you hokey pokey?
Me: What?
Yo: Did you hokey pokey?
Me: What?
Yo: Did. You. Ho. Key. Po. Key?
Me: WHAT? No. No, I did not hokey pokey.
Yo: Then why were you out so late at a bar?
Me: Wait a minute... do you mean karaoke?
Yo: Yeah. Hokey Pokey, karaoke, whatever. You should have come home sooner.