It’s morning, we’re first waking up, and Luc looks up at me with a gasp. “Mom!” he says in this sweet, surprised voice. “I just remembered my dream!”
I am instantly intrigued. “What was it?”
“Chicken butt!” Peels of giggles.
What? You don’t know about Chicken Butt? It’s a kid joke. Basically, you say, “Hey, guess what?” And the hapless victim your target says, of course, “What?” And you say, “Chicken butt.”
That’s the whole joke.
Anyway. Since Luc has learned the ways of Chicken Butt, I have been Chicken Butted daily, multiple times, until I now refuse to say, “What?” about anything. This probably makes my day-to-day conversation sound slightly odd—you’d be surprised how many times you normally say ‘What?’ in a day—but that’s the price we pay around here for introducing small boys to jokes involving the word butt.
Luc is having to get sneakier. Thus the “I just remembered my dream!” ploy.
“Got you, Mommy!”
Time to sit on my son and flatten him like a pancake.
Later, I scoop Luc up and start kissing him and rasberrying his tummy. This is something I am wont to do because I am acutely aware that, one day in the not so distant future, Luc will be a big, hairy man, much taller than I, and I will look back fondly on his wriggly, adorable, little boy self and want to rasberry him, but I won’t be allowed to any more, sob!, so I do it now, a lot, to make up for my future deprivation.
“MOM!” he says, in a calm-assertive dog-trainer voice. “SETTLE.”
This from an episode of ‘It’s Me or the Dog’ recently viewed. The dogs in that show kept jumping on the people, licking and nuzzling, and okay, it was pretty much exactly what I was doing to Luc. Victoria, the dog-trainer, had the dogs SETTLE on a mat. And, apparently, that’s what I was supposed to do, too.
I settled, looking soulfully at him, just like the dogs.
“Click.” He says, and he kisses my cheek. “Good Mommy.” And off he goes.
The kids and I are trying to get out the door for something, I don’t remember what, probably the dentist because we actually had to be somewhere On Time. (Of course, once there, we had to wait 45 minutes. This is so unfair.) I am running around, trying to get three of us ready, Sophie find your shoes, Luc have you peed? Where are my glasses, I can only find one of my shoes, Sophie brush your hair, Luc you still haven’t peed yet, have you? Where is my wallet? Etc. In the middle of the chaos, Luc starts saying, in this calm, sweet voice, “Mom, I have to tell you something.”
But I’ve got a hundred details I’m trying to remember and I’m all hold on, and just a minute.
“Mom, I really have to tell you something.”
“Okay, hang on, I’m almost ready–”
“Mom, there’s something I really need to tell you.”
“Mom, I really, really have to tell you something.”
Finally I stop my spinning. “Okay Luc, tell me what is it.” And I’m fully expecting yet another Chicken Butt.
But he looks right at me with his adorable, little boy face and yells, “MOM, I’M ON FIRE!”
If I’d been drinking milk I would have squirted it out my nose.
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen! He’ll be here all week.