Dueling Comedians

Reed was proud the other day because he finally came up with a decent joke (we strike out a lot in the original joke category). Calvin, as usual, stole his punchline. Or did he?

R: What do you say when you see a 2-headed cow?
M: What?
R: Holy cow!
M: Haha!
C: Hey! What do you say when you get a giant....mug of milk...and it's free?
M: What?
C: HOLY COW!
M: I think you just stole your brother's joke, there, bud.
C: Nu huh! Cuz I said, "HOLY COW! (yelling louder than normal)" and it's with an exsth-clamation mark (pantomimes question mark)."

Lots of Material

The nublins were in fine form today! I got a week’s worth of blog material all in one day.

Breakfast:

C: Pleasth open thisth for me.

Me: Let’s practice your “s” sound. Say, “Pleassssse open thisssss for me.”

C: Can you open that?

M:  Come on, let’sssss practisssse. Pleassssse open thissssss.

C continues to avoid the dreaded s sound, ignore me, and/or turn his mouth away from me so I can’t see if his tongue is in the right spot. Finally, when he sees I’m not going anywhere. 

C: Well, I have to sthay THA-AT if you’re holding it!

In the car:

Our conversation somehow gets from ancestors to smoking, then cancer, then chemo, then baldness, then Uncle Tarl, then male-pattern baldness vs. bic-ing your head voluntarily.  The boys were a little worried that their hair would fall out when they got older.

Me:  Yeah, but then you could just shave it like Uncle Tarl. I think he looks pretty cool without hair.

C: Yeah! He looks like a guy who could do sweet moves on Mario!...Hey! Mario is like Papa. Hair here (points to right side) and here (points to left side), but no hair here (points to top of head)

R: That’s his hat, Calvin.

Lunch:

They take their charving skills to new media: Reed charves pork roast (lots of wood products) and Calvin charves bread and vegetables.

C (holding up piece of broccoli): Is this a tree, (turns it) an upside down tree, (takes bite out of top middle) or a clown?

It was a clown.

Play time:

After putting up the Christmas tree, they took the Christmas toys out and started having a heyday. I’m not really sure what the storyline was, but when I spied, I learned that it involved reindeer, snowmen, a King, Baby Jesus, a Christmas train, and a truck made from a triceratops skeleton. Here’s the one line I overheard:

C: Uh oh! Baby Jesus’ hay is frozen! (knock knock) How will we break it?! Get yooour weapons!!!

Toy pick-up time:

After finishing his assigned rooms, Calvin “helped” Reed in the living room by making a Ninja out of an exercise ball, comforter, two DS games, coat, slippers, and couch cushions.

The couch cushions are arms, a shield, and a sword. I told you this boy was creative.

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In between all the funnies there was also decorating the Christmas tree, baking Reed’s b-day cookies, eating popcorn and cheese for supper while drawing dinosaurs, attacks under the mistletoe, and Max peeing on the potty for the first time!  It doesn’t get much better than this.

But wait, there's more...

I've been ranting about little-kid annoying games here and here and here. I failed to mention these fun additions to the repertoire:

- W-H-A-T disease; the object is to get a person to say the dreaded word, then squeal with "Ahhh, me!" delight and gloat that you've given them the disease. Yes, it's as thrilling as it sounds.
- Incessantly asking people to look "under there."
- Acting excited about something on the wall, then when another person looks, hitting them in the head and shouting, "Stay outta my business!" Thank you, Uncle Rick, for teaching us that little gem almost two years ago. They remembered.
- Spelling E-V-R-E-E-T-H-I-N-G -- this is Reed's brainchild, though Calvin tries, usually getting the first sound and then just spouting random letters. Max has even started calling dessert "B, R, et, et" in an attempt to fit it. And when I ask if Reed wants more lasagna, he answers, "S-H-O-R." FYI - spelling is twice as annoying as ig-Pay atin-Lay
- Broken or not broken; break a piece of food (or don't), then put the pieces back together (or not) and hold them up and ask someone at the table, (here's Max's version) "Broken uh broken?" Give a taunting laugh and prove it when they're wrong.
- "Chri-ma wiiiiiigh!!!!!" - this holiday game is in honor of the littlest player. Be the first to spot Christmas lights and yell the announcement at the top of your lungs in your best Max voice.

Charving Masterpieces

We just keep rollin' out the family fun these days. Here's how you play their latest, called "charving" (a combo of "chewing" and "carving," dubbed in a children's book I read a few summers back whose main character charved all 50 states out of Kraft singles):

- Take mouse-like nibbles around the outside of your cheese slice.
- Every few nibbles, look at it, and decide what it looks like.
- Create a multiple choice question using the shape you created as one choice and random other shapes, similar or polar opposites, as the other choices (real-life example, "Is this Baby Jesus or Frankenstein or a king's head or a star?")
- Quiz everyone at the table. Tell them why they're stupid when they guess wrong (insider tip: always guess "D")
- Repeat. Over and Over. Until the cheese is microscopic.
- Ask for more cheese.
- Whine when mom makes you eat your "real food." Threaten to charve your lasagna.

Not-So Quiet Mouse

I didn't teach Reed and Calvin their latest game. This one, unlike this or this came from elsewhere. It sounds like one that I would actually encourage. It's called Quiet Mouse. The object is to see who can be quiet the longest. Sounds great, right? Wrong. Turns out, I, like my offspring, hate being quiet! Once someone declares the game's beginning by saying, "1, 2, 3, Quiet Mouse!" anyone who lets out even an utterance gets finger points and wide-eyed looks.  I thought Calvin wouldn't last three seconds the first time I played, but he outlasted us all! Max goes down pretty quickly, but he sticks around to help out with the accusatory pointing and attempting to restart the game with an enthusiastic, "1, 3 Come Ow!" Then it's an eternal battle for second-to last. I've held that title just about every time we played. It's boring being quiet, yet pointing at every person who scoots their chair, coughs, or toots. So I just quit, talk, and endure the silent mockery. I can't even enjoy that last minute or so of silence, what with the constant fingers in my face and ever-louder gasps with each word I speak. Finally, Ryan and Reed give in and I'm always shocked at how my loudest child ends up winning a game with "quiet" in the title. I guess his stubborness overrules his desperate need to be heard.