Raise your hand if you’ve been humming Barney’s theme song to yourself all day long.
I’m the only one with my hand in the air, as high as a big farm’s silo? I thought I could gather some folks for a bit of a support group, where we drink bad coffee out of Styrofoam cups and lean our heads upon one another’s shoulders, and pat each other’s heads and say comforting words, like, “There, there.”
I guess I was wrong. I guess everyone else has a real life, where better songs, like Taylor Swift’s new Shake It Off, play on the repeat loop in your heads. I even worked quite diligently to FORCE Taylor’s song to stick inside my head this afternoon, but it simply didn’t take.
“Barney’s friends are big and small, they come from lots of places; after school, they meet to play, and sing with happy faces…”
I cannot imagine a reform program any better than putting that little ditty on the endless loop cycle to play over prison speakers. Record numbers of inmates would strive to mind their manners and make parole, just to escape the song.
I don’t have much for y’all tonight, because it’s just been one of those weeks, where the BUSY was packed in tighter than a couple of married rattlesnakes who are SO. IN. LOVE.
I had a conversation with one of my first graders in the gym this week. He had been absent on Tuesday, and when he showed up for PE on Wednesday, I said, “Oh, man! I’m so glad to have you back in class!” And it’s true. He’s a good egg. He looked at me and said, “I was really sick. Like… I was SO SICK… I threw up a smoothie in my bed, and it came out my nose! And you know what was SO GROSS about it?”
You mean… SO GROSS… other than YOU BARFED IN YOUR BED?! There’s actually MORE “so gross”?
The little guy went on to say, “It was so gross, because my mom puts grass in smoothies. I tell her not to, but she keeps putting grass and… like... LETTUCE in the blender with the yogurt, and when I puked that smoothie out of my nose… IT WAS SO GREEN!”
The other interesting conversation I took part in this week happened in the car, while I drove the boy and our neighbor, Andrew, to junior high youth group at the church last night. They were debating which of them was the better driver, because… you know… they both drive SO DADGUM MUCH at the age of fourteen. Andrew ended up saying, “I know that I’m a SAFER driver than you are, so that makes me the BETTER driver.”
And… I had to agree, which caused Andrew to whoop and holler out, “See? Even your mom thinks I’m the better driver!”
To this, I just said, “Driving safely is always driving better,” because apparently I’m now old enough to verbally offer advice like I was the voice-over in a car insurance commercial.
The boy simply shouted, “Driving safely doesn’t mean you’re a better driver! A better driver has MORE SKILLS!! A better driver can spin cookies… like… eight times before the car stops on the ice!! That’s a skill, and you’re a better drive if you have SKILLS!”
And then there was a lively discussion between the two teenage boys on how a vehicle just LOOKS BETTER spinning in circles like a Volkswagen in a full-throttle seizure as it goes down the road. The boy also said, “And it takes skill to turn a corner on ice, and SLIDE right into your parking space, exactly where you wanted to end up in the first place. Just ask Dad.”
Obviously, my son will not be driving when he turns sixteen, because I’ll have him in a safe driver’s ed course, with Barney’s song playing from the simulator’s radio, while Hubs sits in the simulator’s passenger seat and learns a lesson, too.
I feel badly for parents who just have girls and never get to engage in any conversations like these.
So… between PE and soccer games and toddler-raising and teenager-homework and tennis lessons and youth group and grocery-fetching and laundry and WHO THREW HIS POPCORN ALL OVER THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR AGAIN?, it has been a full week.
I did snap some more pictures at the boy’s and Kellen’s last tennis lesson, because the afternoon was GLORIOUSLY WONDERFUL. The scent of Fall was in the air…the sun was perfectly warm… the sky was vividly blue… and I couldn’t resist taking pictures, right before I settled down at a table outside of the tennis courts with a good book and a chai tea from Starbucks.
The boys are loving tennis. They’re even managing to reign in the 8th Grade Boy Power on their swings, so that they don’t rocket the tennis balls into outer space when they connect with one. Kellen is a baseball player, who has been trained to swing hard and hit home runs over a fence. The boy is a golfer, whose brain is ingrained with the fact that the longest drives happen and make the crowds applaud QUIETLY when you swing hard and smack the snot out of that little white ball. Of course, they took these thoughts with them into the tennis court for their first lesson a couple of weeks ago, as they both SHOT FOR THE BIG DISTANCE, y’all, and we had to fetch balls from the parking lot and the creek bank and the nearby pool.
I think they’ve got the hang of it now. You hit a tennis ball hard and aim a little differently, and you don’t earn any extra points by clearing the fence with that fuzzy, yellow ball.
And that, folks, is going to wrap up our week here at Jedi Mama, Inc. Y’all behave yourselves, and may your favorite football teams win… unless they happen to be playing Small Town High School… College Town… or the Denver Broncos. THEN… may your favorite football teams lose, and may they lose badly.