~Skinned Conversations~

While discussing some recent skin problems Eamon was having...

Eamon:  *sigh*  "I wish I was already in Kentucky."

Me:  "Why?"

Eamon:  <matter-of-factly>  "Because Aunt Erica's there."

Me:  <smiling>  "Ah, and you think Aunt Erica will have some magic oil to make your skin smooth again?"

Eamon:  "Well, she is a massage therapist so, yeah!"


Ok, the kid has got a point - thanks to her massage therapy, yoga practice, natural lotion products, and now doula services, Erica is quickly cornering the market on alternative medicine!  

Erica and her all-natural lotion bars

~Dolled Up Conversations~

While watching cartoons this morning, a fast food commerical came on, advertising mini American Girl dolls as the kids' meal prize...

Eamon:  <disgusted>  "Ugh!  Those are horrible!"

Me:  <teasing>  "So you're saying you'd like one of those for your birthday?  That can be arranged!"

Eamon:  <horrified>  "NO!  I'm a BOY!"

Me:  <seriously>  "Boys can have dolls too."

Eamon:  <chastened>  "I know... but not me!  I don't like dolls and I don't want one!"

Later as I was getting something out of Eamon's closet, I found something from a long time ago... a doll that belonged to Eamon!

Me:  <sing-songy>  "Oh, Eamon...  Come see what I found!  It's your... doll baby!"

Eamon:  <horrified> "What?!  I don't have a doll?!"

Me:  "Oh, but you did!  See?  It's your Baby Paul(TM) Potty Training Doll!"

Eamon:  <looking on in silent horror at his anatomically-correct boy baby doll with its doll-sized diaper & potty chair accessories>    

Mark:  "Dude, it's not a big deal.  I had a few dolls when I was a kid too.  Besides, if it weren't for Baby Paul, you'd still be peeing on yourself."

Eamon:  <laughs hysterically at that last bit>

Baby Paul was a life-saver when it came to potty-training but not so much because Eamon couldn't figure out the mechanics of peeing in the potty.  It was the competition that did it for him.  It soon became apparent that 2 year old Eamon could care less about Baby Paul - or himself - peeing in the potty.  So I made identical sticker books for Eamon and Baby Paul, with a picture of each on the toilet on the front of their own personal sticker book.  Every time one of them peed on the potty, a sticker got added to the album and that's when things got interesting.  Eamon couldn't stand that Baby Paul was wracking up more stickers than him!  He was a toddler on a mission - to destroy baby Paul's sticker-collecting record.  Yay for competitive peeing!  ;)

~Where the Fun Never Ends~

In the car after Tae Kwon Do today...

Eamon:  <excitedly> "Not too much longer until I'm going to be at Mema's house!  For the whole... well, a long time!"

Me:  "Yep, not long at all.  So are you going to miss Dad and I while we're gone?"

Eamon:  <hesitantly>  "Yeah."

Me:  <trying to lighten the mood>  "So do you think you'll get tired of Mema while we're gone?"

Eamon:  <with conviction>  "No, the fun never ends with Mema."

Me:  <laughing>  "True!  And there are the cats to keep you entertained!  Do you think you're up for cleaning up cat poop?"

Eamon:  <horrified>  "What!?"

Me:  "Well, she does have three cats so I'm sure you'll need to help clean up poop - or vomit - at least once."

Eamon:  *sigh*  "Well, at least they are really funny like that picture of Felix eating Mema's plants."

Yes, who wouldn't want to clean up after them 

when they vomit up mom's Mother's Day flowers?;)

~Mother's Day Conversations~

When I woke up this morning and attempted to pry Eamon's attention from the TV screen...

Me:  "So, is there anything you'd like to tell me this morning?"

Eamon:  "Umm, no?"

Me:  "Really?  Nothing?  Nothing at all?"

Eamon:  <thinking harder>  "Uhh, when's breakfast?"

Me:  *sigh*  "How about 'Happy Mother's Day'?"

Eamon:  "Oh, yeah.  Happy Mother's Day.  So when's breakfast?"

later...

Me:  "What should we do when we get home?  Or rather what should you do for me since it's my special day and I'm not supposed to work."

Eamon:  <innocently>  "You can work."

Me:  "It's Mother's Day!  I'm not supposed to work!"

Eamon:  <litigiously> "But on Mother's Day, moms should do whatever they want so if you want to work, you can."

Me:  "Yes, I know I can work today if I wanted to but I don't want to.  So are you going to help do some work for me today?"

Eamon:  <grudgingly>  "Yes, I'll help do some work for you today.  But you know if you change your mind and do want to work, you can."

Eamon, patron saint of the Women's Liberation Movement... ;) 

~Doggy Conversations~

While watching a show about dogs...

Eamon:  "Aww, look at that dog!"

Me:  "Yep, he's cute."

Eamon:  "Yeah, he looks like Max but with Ziggy's depression."

Me:  <confused>  "You think Ziggy's depressed?"

Eamon:  "Well, she always has that sad look on her face so, yeah."

Me:  "I think that's just how she looks."

Eamon:  "No, I think she's depressed."

I think Ziggy perfected the "sad puppy" look long ago and has been using it to sucker us for years!  Depressed doggy or conniving canine?  You be the judge!

Sad Ziggy pup is sad that she has too much to eat!

~Murderous Conversations~

Ok, this post really doesn't contain much of a conversation because, for reasons which will become abundantly clear, I was left mostly speechless.  The backstory is that Eamon's after-school science group was painting plastic aprons (can we say 'busy work'?) and this is what my son came up with.   

Yes, you're seeing that clearly.  

He made a big red smear on his apron and wrote "murder" underneath. 

*sigh* 

Yeah, I'm expecting a call from the school psychologist any minute now! :P

~Bitty Conversations~

And now for a short break from our regularly-scheduled conversation, here's a conversation between me and one of our special library helpers today...

Helper:  <excitedly> "Ms. Brown, guess what I'm using!"

Me:  "What?"

Helper:  "A fitbit*!  I'm going to bring it up on your computer."

Me:  <looking at the info on the website in front of me>  "Honey, this website says that you weigh 10 lbs."

Helper:  <scoffing> "Well, I don't know how much I weigh, Ms. Brown!"

Me:  "Well, you definitely weigh more than 10 lbs."

Helper:  <indignantly>  "It was just a guess, Ms. Brown!"

Me:  "I know, honey, but you're a teenager so you definitely weigh more than 10 lbs.  You're at least 100 lbs but probably more... <realizing I'm getting nowhere>  Hey!  Whey don't you stop by the nurse's office and use her scale and then you can put the right amount down?"

Helper:  "Nah."

Me:  "Are you sure because I think she could..."

Helper:  "I don't want to."

Me:  "Oh, well, ok..."

Helper:  <types in 100 lbs for weight>

Me:  "Ok, sweetie, have a good day!"

*A fitbit is an electronic bracelet that is a pedometer/activity monitor which sends your data to a website to help you track your activity/calorie burning, etc. 

Btw, this kid is the perfect weight for his age/height and doesn't need a fitbit - I think he may have usurped his mom's Mother's Day present! - but he loves anything to do with technology and it just cracked me up that he thought 10 lbs was a good estimate for his teenage boy weight.  :) 

~Pressured Conversations~

While explaining to Eamon about the pressure bandage on my arm after giving blood today...

Me:  "And that's why if someone has a wound that's bleeding, you apply pressure to it, to help stop the bleeding."

Eamon:  "Well, that would have been helpful to know when I was little!"

Me:  "Oh?  Because now that you're so much older, you'll never get hurt again?"

Eamon:  <thoughtfully>  "I still might will.  Because I do keep hurting myself.  And that one time with Tristan's bloody lip..."

Me:  "What are you talking about?"

Eamon:  "You know, when we were in the three's class and Tristan's lip was bleeding?"

Me:  <sarcastically>  "Oh, yeah, that time, of course!  Yes, you could have applied pressure to Tristan's face and I'm sure that would have made everything better."

Hmm, knowing Eamon and his buddy Tristan, it was probably the application of sudden pressure to the face that made Tristan bleed in the first place!  ;) 

~Aged Conversations~

While chatting with Eamon about something I did for him today...

Me:  "See?!  Your old mom came through for you!"

Eamon:  "Wait, you're old?"

Me:  "Well, I figured you would think I am."

Eamon:  "How old are you anyway?"

Me:  <knowing this is a dangerous question>  "How old do I look?"

Eamon:  "Umm, thirty-seven?"

Me:  <teasing>  "What?!  I look that old?!"

Eamon:  <placatingly>  "No, that's young! <and then just giving up>  Well, it's kind of old-young."

Me:  "So I'm old-young?"

Eamon:  "Yeah."


Well, I guess that's better than him thinking I'm old-old. ;)