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Nov
22
2010

The other night Rick and I went out to dinner. (Yes, just the two of us.) After we discussed the current lame duck session of Congress and what, if anything, it could accomplish over the next couple months (or maybe we were discussing why kids love to pick their noses – who can remember exactly), I said…

“Oh, I ran into Kelly who used to live across the street from us in our old neighborhood. She’s pregnant! I can’t believe she and her husband are having a fourth kid. Very bold.”

“They only have two kids right now,” Rick said.

“Honey, we lived across the street from them for an entire year. They have three boys. A pair of twins and one a little younger.”

“No, they don’t. They have two kids,” Rick insisted.

So we debated for a bit and finally decided to text another neighbor (Donna) who could definitely settle this. Thank God for texting. Because if we had this argument in 1981, we’d have to call Donna, the phone would ring and ring. We’d call back. More ringing. We’d finally have to stop at her house on the way home and just sit on her doorstep until she got home to get our answer.

Or try to look it up in an Encyclopedia.

But in 2010, Donna texted back in 27 seconds to confirm what I already knew…

“They have two boys,” her text read.

Wait – WHAT?! How is that possible? Had I imagined this 3rd child? Do they have a playdate with the same boy day after day leading me to believe that he must live there? Do they have a lot of mirrors which make it look like they have more children than they actually do?

They must live in a house of mirrors.

Meanwhile, back to the issue of the lame duck session of Congress – I think it will accomplish very little. As for nose picking by children, I subscribe to the belief that a tissue must always be found. But Rick is a little more flexible.  In his own words to our 6 year-old who was about to eat her own boogers (so gross), “If you can’t find a tissue, never eat it.” Ok, that’s good advice. But then he added, “If you don’t have a tissue, you have to pick it and flick it.”

“DON’T TELL HER THAT!”

“Yup. It’s the truth. Sometimes you just have to pick it and flick it.”

“SERIOUSLY. STOP TELLING HER THAT. Rick – she won’t know you’re kidding. Dylan, you always find a tissue. Don’t flick anything.”

“Sometimes a tissue can’t be found. And then you just pick and — ”

“OH MY GOD. STOP. STOP RIGHT NOW!!  STOP SAYING THAT. Don’t listen to daddy. He’s insane. Now let’s change the subject and talk about our old neighbors. Dylan, remember the boys who lived across the street from our old house. How many boys did they have?”

“Two.”

Damn.

mama bird diaries

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17 Responses to sometimes husbands are crazy. or maybe it’s me.


kelcey kintner


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