I am in my closet, hiding from the child crying on the other side of the bedroom door. Instead of telling her to go away and allow me a moment’s peace whilst I stand here in my birthday suit, I ask her what (in the name of tarnation) is wrong. She informs me that her sister quoted the following poem to her face. Maybe you’ve heard of it.
I see London, I see France, I see so-and-so’s underpants. Only Little One can’t quite remember the words, so her version goes like this:
I See London, I see ants. I see Someone’s underpants. All I can think of is that my fellow colleague and Speech and Language Pathologist would certainly be pleased to know that my five-year old can conjure up a closer matching rhyme to underpants than that of the original poem.
My Son and Oldest Daughter, not to be outdone by their youngest sibling, had a moment of comedic relief after lunch today. While I was on my hands and knees under the table scrubbing the floor, Son informed me (as he sat stationary on a wooden stool) that he was by far the most active and healthy of all our family members. I looked at him and burst out laughing. He snickered hesitantly, but I could still see he was not convinced that this was the most ludicrous thing I had heard to date, second only to this morning’s incident when Littlest had informed me her sister had seen ants. As if. I am far too much of a neat freak to allow ants in our house.
To both propositions I say this: there are no ants in our house, and my Son usually errs on the side of laziness when at all possible.
Husband happened to appear just as I was laughing my head off, and as I relayed the story back to him, he stuck out his stomach and informed our son that actually he and the new baby were the healthiest members of our household. This really made me laugh. And so I was not only hysterically laughing, I was laying on top of the countertop trying to get control of myself. Along came our daughter, and she asked what was going on. We told her that Daddy was pregnant, and Son was finally going to get the brother he had always wanted.
Story relayed, I continued to try to get my faculties together, and then out of the blue, our daughter said this: “I don’t know how he thinks he knows already what it’s going to be. How does he know it is going to be a boy?”
Kill me now. I guess we need to seriously get started on explaining why Daddy’s don’t have babies. Although it would have been a nice option right around the time I was preggos with number 4.