April 26, 2007
Coach Henry
Charlie is going on a field trip tomorrow, to the Dinosaur Park in Yukon (who knew we had dinosaurs in Yukon? Garth Brooks, sure, but DINOSAURS? Dude) so after school today we went to Target to get sunscreen, and because my kids are spoiled I am a sucker the boys were being extra good, they each got to pick out a toy from the dollar spot. They chose some cheap ass very cute little trucks, one of which they broke before dinner.
During Charlie’s bath, Henry and I were building race courses for his truck with Mega blocks. He was mostly building things to knock down, of course, because he’s a boy and that’s what boys do. (Wade was supervising the bath, don’t worry; I only rarely leave the boy in the tub alone. You know, when it’s an emergency. Like when my wine glass is empty. Things like that.)
Anyway, we’re building race courses and Henry is knocking them down and he looks at me and says, very solemnly, “Mom, what’s your obstacle?”
And I thought, huh, what IS my obstacle?
I said, “Is that a theoretical question or a practical question?”
“What’s theoretical mean?”
“Oh, it means . . . well, practical would be building something for the truck, and theoretical would be . . .”
And Henry, god love him, said, “Mom. Are you going to build something for the truck to knock down?”
Wade came in and I made Henry repeat what he had said (this time he prefaced it with “This is a PRACTICAL question, Dad”), and then I said, “I think DADDY is my obstacle!”
And Wade said, “Absolutely.” Which is totally not true, at all, in case you’re wondering.
Henry has been trying out all kinds of new phrases these days, with more and less success. The other night, Charlie was doing homework and Henry was yelling from the back of the house “Charlie! CHARLIE!!!” Eventually, he came into the family room, where Wade and I were sitting with Charlie, and said, “Charlie, can I play with your Foot Ninja toy?”
“Sure,” Charlie said.
“On the other hand,” Henry said, “Where IS your Foot Ninja toy?”
“In my closet,” Charlie said, but by then Wade and I were covering our faces and laughing.
Sometimes I think it would be cool to have a life coach, someone I could call to talk me through the more difficult times in my life. But then I talk to Henry and I realize that my life coach is living right here. Of course, he has no idea what he’s saying most of the time. Or why it’s funny.
On the other hand, what IS my obstacle? Hmmm . . .
Posted by Susan @ 6:55 pm • Uncategorized
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April 26th, 2007 at 9:23 pm, daniela Says:
THIS is why we have kids. I wish I could hug them right now.
April 26th, 2007 at 9:28 pm, Annika Says:
I want Henry to come live with me.
April 27th, 2007 at 8:50 am, bgirl Says:
My son (age 6) will drop a “regardless” from time to time. Always good for a laugh. And the one he gets right from my lips, “Here’s the thing…”
April 27th, 2007 at 10:29 am, Mir Says:
I pink puffy heart Henry.
Also, I just came from therapy. How much time do you have for me to tell you about my obstacle?
April 27th, 2007 at 12:40 pm, Kelly Says:
I love when they start verbally trying out the things they’ve heard around the house. What I’m not looking forward to are the things they start trying out that they’ve picked up on the school bus.
April 27th, 2007 at 12:42 pm, Busy Mom Says:
Garth Brooks is kind of a dinosaur.
May 2nd, 2007 at 7:59 pm, Karyn Says:
The J-Man has begun to refer to his brother as Acerebral.
Because his hapless mother told him to stop calling his brother “stupid”.
Acerebral. Seriously.