A New Sweatshirt

The other day at the mall they were having a big sale.

So I sent Middle Child over to look at the Young Men clothes

and he found a sweatshirt right away that he Just Had to Have.

And then he showed me what it does when it's all zipped up and I couldn't say No.

Now you know who to turn in if someone looking like this

knocks off a gas station or bank or pizza place.

Love

Last week Uncle Copper was up visiting. He was taking some drug classes. It was called "Domestic Drug something something." I was all like "Huh?" I asked him what they were teaching him. I thought maybe it was something about how to spot Husbands and Wives who Dealt/Made Drugs. Domestic violence is about violence in the home, so it made sense to me. But that's not the case. It's learning about how people use hotels and storage units and ride buses in order to traffic drugs. Then, the brilliant girl that I am, asked, "So, it's not about making drugs at home? That sound like it's everywhere but home. Where does the 'domestic' come in? Is it domestic because it's not at a work place? But, um, they don't traffic in drugs at stores so why the 'domestic'?" I'm totally clueless when it comes to drugs.

But the point of this story was we all went to dinner that night. The server asked what we were celebrating and we couldn't think of anything. But Uncle Copper and his boy, Sister-in-Law Nurse and her family, Grandma & Grandpa, and us, all went to dinner at the local Brick Oven. Uncle Copper left early because he had to pick up a girl. We were all a little curious because no one knew who she was. But when they showed up she happened to be a college-age daughter of a co-worker of Uncle Copper's. She was cute girl. And Middle Child had her attention the whole time.

He talked that poor girl's ear off! He was instilling all his witty, nonsensical knowledge on her poor unsuspecting ear. She was really cute and gave him her full attention. At the end of dinner I heard Middle Child discussing trading cell phone numbers with her so they could text. I'd say he was a bit smitten!

Somehow the movie Twilight came up in their discussion. She said she didn't watch the movie because she loved the books so much she didn't want the movie to ruin it. Middle Child piped in that he'd read the book.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"11!" he enthusiastically replied, trying to make her realize she's not that much older than him. Then he told her "I didn't like the books. They were kinda dumb."

"That's because you don't understand love yet, you're too young."

"I will on April 3rd," he replied.

"What's going on on April 3rd?" she asked.

Then he got that slightly embarrassed grin of realizing he had shared too much information. He clammed right up and then changed the subject, because that kid can't stay clammed up for more than about 30 seconds.

From the other end of the table Olaf and I had heard the whole conversation and burst into laughter. His school is having Maturation Class on April 3rd, Utah's sexless version of sex ed. That poor girl left completely confused about how Middle Child would learn about Love on April 3rd.

Fight Club

Middle Child informed me that his school now has a Fight Club. They are a little behind the times as those were more popular a few years ago, but nevertheless they have one. I asked him if he was a member and he responded in the negative. That's a good thing that he's not a member, but at the same time he didn't get invited to be a member, so I don't know how that bodes for Junior High and his friend-making ability. If, by chance, there are only two or three members, then I'm not worried. But if everyone in 6th grade is a member but him, then I will begin to wonder about those social skills.

I guess I should just be thankful he's not a member because the kids were informed that if they're a member they'll get suspended. I was kind of wondering how the teachers would know who the members were until Middle Child informed me that they're supposed to tattle on the other kids if they know who the members are. And I just thought the kids duking it out at recess would be telling enough. But apparently the teachers are trying to get the kids to turn on each other, hopefully they'll get immunity or something worthwhile for the trouble they'll be in when they're discovered by the Fight Club kids.

And then I wonder what they call the Fight Club? When I asked, Middle Child said it was called "Ultimate Fighting or something. . . I have no idea what that is." We don't watch much Ultimate Fighting or Wrestling at this house. I know they're different sports, but I don't know how. I got my fill of it when I worked at the Bowling Alley Bar and they played it on the big screen every Saturday night. Currently, Middle Child is reading this over my shoulder as I type and informed me it's called TUF or something. But I just googled that and that's actually Taiwanese United Fund as found here. I guess my Know-It-All Middle Child doesn't know it all. I love proving that once in a while. I'm a Bad Mom.

Houston We Have a Problem

Friday afternoon at approximately 3:30 I got a text from Middle Child.

"The picture you will receive is of a broken window." because he knows pictures take much longer to send and receive than a regular text.

What? I texted back, "Which window?"

"The one by the front door." Not the Front Window or the Big Window (because it is a huge window) or anything like that.

So then I got worried and decided to call because texting is pointless for some issues.

Me: "Which window is broken?"

MC: "The one by the front window."

Me: "How did it break?"

MC: "I opened it to talk to Baby and then I closed it and when I turned around I heard something fall and hit the ground. Then I turned back around and it was on the floor."

Me: incredulously "The window just broke like that?"

MC: "Yeah."

Me: trying to breathe slowly "So, is the glass broken or did the window just fall out?" We have slider windows which can be pulled out to wash.

MC: "The lock fell off."

Me: "The lock fell off?"

MC: "Yes."

Me: "So is the window broken?"

MC: "Yes."

Me: "But is the glass broken?"

MC: "No."

Me: "So the window isn't broken."

MC: "Yes, the window's broken."

Me: "The glass is broken?"

MC: "No."

Me: "So is just the lock broken?"

MC: "Yes, but the window's broken."

Me: "But you said the glass isn't broken."

MC: "No, the glass isn't broken."

Me: "So did the window fall out but the glass didn't break?" Trying to get my brain around exactly how the window is broken.

MC: "No, the window didn't fall out."

Me: "Is the window still in the right place?"

MC: "Yes."

Me: "So, is just the lock broken?"

MC: "Yes, the lock's broken."

Me: "So, the window isn't broken, just the lock is broken."

MC: "Yeah, that's it."

Come in Houston! We have confirmation! I don't know if all preteens are this difficult to talk to but it was like pulling teeth to find out exactly what happened. This kid could be Laurel and Hardy all by himself sometimes.

About five minutes after our conversation ended the picture finally came through. And sure enough, if I had seen that first, there would have been no question about the condition of the window.

While I was ecstatic the window wasn't broken and letting in mass amounts of 24 degree air, I was kind of disappointed I didn't have a good excuse to go home early.