Car Talk
Of course it’s well-known and at times well-documented that the best conversations with my kids take place in the car.
Last week we had a discussion (prompted by the morning drive-time radio show) about what we should give up for Lent. I mused about previous years:
Me: So far I’ve given up chocolate, tea and soda. Not sure what I should give up this year…
Jacob: I’m not giving up anything. Jesus already died so I don’t have to give up stuff.
Ben: I’m giving up soda. And candy.
Me: (thinking of my future lower dental bills) Good idea, Ben.
Jacob: (to me) Why don’t you give up reading?
Danny: (apparently half-listening) Then she’ll turn blue and pass out.
Me: He said reading, not breathing. (But really, for me, pretty much the same thing.) Maybe I’ll give up fast food. Or Coke. Or just Coke at Sonic.
As a side note: I’ve given up fast food. And don’t miss it one bit. Except for Saturday when I bought Ben Chick-fil-A for breakfast after his soccer game. The chicken minis were calling for me…
Last night on the way to Jacob’s guitar lesson, then to Ben’s baseball practice. Someone brought up The Vagina Monologues.
Me: Oh, one of Joan’s relatives invited her to a performance in Dallas this week.
Jacob: Have you been to one?
Me: No and the funny thing is, Joan’s son Austin responded Yes to the RSVP.
Jacob: Austin wanted to go? Does he even know what a vagina is?
Me: He’s your age. I’m pretty sure he does.
Jacob: What are The Vagina Monologues?
Me: It’s just some woman sitting on a stage talking about woman stuff, I guess.
Ben: (finally commenting from the back seat—in his best ‘vagina voice’) Hello. It’s me. I’m itchy.
Remind me to check my insurance policy. I’m not sure I should be driving with my children in the car anymore.
Last week we had a discussion (prompted by the morning drive-time radio show) about what we should give up for Lent. I mused about previous years:
Me: So far I’ve given up chocolate, tea and soda. Not sure what I should give up this year…
Jacob: I’m not giving up anything. Jesus already died so I don’t have to give up stuff.
Ben: I’m giving up soda. And candy.
Me: (thinking of my future lower dental bills) Good idea, Ben.
Jacob: (to me) Why don’t you give up reading?
Danny: (apparently half-listening) Then she’ll turn blue and pass out.
Me: He said reading, not breathing. (But really, for me, pretty much the same thing.) Maybe I’ll give up fast food. Or Coke. Or just Coke at Sonic.
As a side note: I’ve given up fast food. And don’t miss it one bit. Except for Saturday when I bought Ben Chick-fil-A for breakfast after his soccer game. The chicken minis were calling for me…
Last night on the way to Jacob’s guitar lesson, then to Ben’s baseball practice. Someone brought up The Vagina Monologues.
Me: Oh, one of Joan’s relatives invited her to a performance in Dallas this week.
Jacob: Have you been to one?
Me: No and the funny thing is, Joan’s son Austin responded Yes to the RSVP.
Jacob: Austin wanted to go? Does he even know what a vagina is?
Me: He’s your age. I’m pretty sure he does.
Jacob: What are The Vagina Monologues?
Me: It’s just some woman sitting on a stage talking about woman stuff, I guess.
Ben: (finally commenting from the back seat—in his best ‘vagina voice’) Hello. It’s me. I’m itchy.
Remind me to check my insurance policy. I’m not sure I should be driving with my children in the car anymore.
Comments
"I'm cleaning the coffee from my screen." Hilarious! (like Tom & Ray from the radio show!)
By the way, VM is over. Tomorrow night they're doing 12th night. I think I'm going if you want to.
Todd and I went to VM a few years ago at my son's insistence (what is up with that?) and it was pretty dang funny and also moving. Awkward and uncomfortable at times, sure. For a good cause.
Something to ponder
Sonya
My girlfriends and I have all taken on the "do something for others" during Lent. I've given up Vitamin Water, which will save me money AND calories. Yesterday morning at the Y I was complaining about drinking PLAIN water and the fitness instructor guy said, "Yeah, I'm really struggling with what I gave up." So I said, "Really, what was it?" He said, "I can't talk about it." Well then why did he even say anything if he can't talk about it?? A couple of minutes later he walked over to my treadmill and said, "I'm not a mindreader, but it's not what you think." How did he know what I was thinking??
I've never seen the show, too bad for me.
Elizabeth