Hubs, 1. Mama, 0.

Last night, Hubs and the boy had a little clandestine meeting at the computer.

I was really too tired to pay much attention to their summit, because I was recovering from the possibility that a tornado could have totally struck the school’s playground while we were outside having PE yesterday.

And we all know that tornadoes kill people dead and smash their houses.

(For the record, that little guy came into the gym for PE today and the very first words out of his mouth were, “Teacher, did you know that a tornado hit Bigger Town this summer? And did you know that we almost had a tornado here last night, but it just rained instead?” Clearly, he still had his two noids with him, even today. When it was sunny outside. With no dark clouds whatsoever.)

The meeting of the male minds at my house last night ended with the song, Smooth Criminal, being downloaded onto an iPod which does not belong to me.

It’s because it was THE BOY’S iPod, and how on earth we managed to NOT have one of the musical genius’ songs is beyond me. I thought that we had every song Michael Jackson ever recorded. On continuous rotation. On the Repeated Play List, which never ends.

Hmm. Remember the musical number called This Is the Song That Never Ends? Did y’all sing that one on the buses to summer camp? Maybe at Brownies? If you stuck with Brownies long enough to actually learn any songs, that is. Because when I found out we were going to learn to sew and sell cookies, and that we were NOT going to be building campfires that violated all fire restrictions and codes, I dropped out.

My career in the brown uniform was short-lived.

When I was just seven, my dad taught me how to light my own fires in a fifty-gallon drum, which we used to burn garbage in. Knowing how to start fires forever changed my life.

And for the record?

I still don’t know how to sew. In fact (and I kid you not), the button on one of the boy’s favorite capes came off tonight, while he was saving the universe from imminent peril at youth group with Carter. When Carter’s parents dropped the boy off at our house, he marched inside and said, “The button on my favorite cape broke off tonight, so I gave it to Carter’s dad, because he’s really good at sewing patches on, and I told him that you couldn’t sew at all, Mom. Aren’t you happy that you don’t even have to look at that button and try to decide who you’re going to ask to sew it on this time?”

Mmm-hmm. That boy is a genuine blessing to me.

And now Carter’s dad knows that I am completely incapable of sewing a button onto a cape.

But really? I can so sing the song that goes on forever, because I totally learned it at summer camp scads of years ago.

This is the song that never ends,
It goes on and on, my friends,
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue singing it forever just because
This is the song that never ends,
It goes on and on, my friends,
Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was,
And they’ll continue singing it forever just because
This is the song that never ends…

Had enough?

Where was I?

Smooth Criminal.

We totally have that song at our house now, and the boy got up earlier than normal today, because he was anxious to get his groove on and blow the speakers plum out of his iPod dock.

Hubs and I were in the bathroom, where I was unloading the hot rollers out of my hair. Apparently the beat of the music struck Hubs just the right way today, because he bobbed his neck in time with the music, and he did a little shoulder shrug at the end, and then the guy threw his arms up in the universal sign for TOUCHDOWN, grinned at me, and said these words:

“Look! My neck and back are still in place! I win!”

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