So yesterday afternoon was pretty lazy. I skipped doing laundry and cooking a healthy dinner in favor of lying on the floor in Ross' room and harassing him while he read The Artemis Fowl Files and then book 9 of the 39 Clues. (The kid reads likes 400 pages a day. I feel like someone from the real world needs to check in with him every few hours.)
(And by check in, I mean pester. And sometimes tickle.)
I asked him who he played with at recess today (cousin Jack),
if anything new happened at school today (pizza party because Mrs. Segerson had called kids by the wrong named 40 times since school began),
and what he wanted to be when he grew up. Ross wasn't anxious to answer, but the other kids chimed in.
Tom said:
What do YOU want me to be? Maybe I can drive a plane? Maybe I can be the Home Depot paint mixer guy? Or maybe a Costco helper? Maybe you can be a Costco helper with me? Or no. You should be a motorcycle driver. You'd be good at that.
Sam decided:
Well, there are only two things I'd like to be: A dad, and a teacher of guitar. Oh, and maybe some other stringed instruments. My kids will probly be rock stars. Don't be surprised if they are. (Sam doesn't play the guitar, or has ever, to my knowledge, shown the slightest interest in playing any of the three guitars we have collecting dust in the living room, from back in the day when I was in a fake Indigo Girls style band called Mango Lassi. Which is an Indian yogurt drink.)
Jane interrupted:
A marine biologist, a veterinarian, an animal breeder, a pediatrician, an In-n-Out worker, a lawyer, or a CIA Agent. In that order. Do you want me to write this down?
Me: Yes, please. And you, Ross?
Ross won't even look up from his book:
I don't know. I'll do something, but when I retire I want to randomly blow stuff up. At random.
Me: How about a scientist? Perhaps a...geneticist? (I enjoy the human genome project. I hope someday we will all be able to do our family history with a swab of the inside of our cheeks.)
Ross: That's your dream, not mine. Why can't I have an airsoft gun?
Me: You can.
I'll buy you one when you get your PhD.
And for your viewing pleasure, even more photos from my phone:
(Legos + bendaroos = spideyvillain.)
10 comments:
Those are some ambitious and creative kids:) I like that you bribe your kids according what degree they get. That's gotta be effective:)
What's with that wagon your infant son is in? Didn't your kids find that in the back yard of a beat up rental house? Yuck.
Hi Kelly, it's Kristy...I love your post! When we lived near each other I had hoped that Ross and Noah would grow up together - they sound like they'd be two peas in a pod. Nose in the Artemis Fowl Files, complaining that he doesn't have an airsoft gun... they could probably switch places without missing a beat!
I don't even know how to get photos off of my phone - so whether you knew these were there or not, pretty impressive. I would want to blow stuff up at random too when I retire. I think that sounds fun.
Love the group shot--is it Halloween prep or is that everyday wear at the Beeswax household?
I'm thinking of gently encouraging all my children to take up professions that would be in my best interests, i.e. Mila could be a theater producer, Ethan a restaurant owner, Lucy a travel agent, and Lane a hairstylist. I'm just throwing things out at random, of course.
I'm encouraging Sariah to be a doctor so I can receive free medical care (and so that I can say this is my daughter Sariah, the doctor). Right now she'd take squinkies as a bribe for getting her medical degree. I might have to up the prize as she gets older.
Love all the photos from your phone. And the reference to Mango Lassi.
This post is HI-larious!
You are cracking me up with your fake Indigo Girls band! Did you do covers? "Secure Yourself" or maybe "chicken man"? haha!!!
Hey, Jake, you let Jane drag that wagon home.
Kristy, I'm glad Ross isn't alone in the world. We should get them together sometime.
Melissa, Ross really wants to blow up toilets. He would like a job at Mythbusters.
Kari, that was just a regular July ninja war.
Hailey, I never thought of that. Is brilliant. I should talk Jane out of the dog breeding tho, and someone into pastry chefing.
Shireen, was is a squinkie?
Mandi, we wrote most of our own music, like all self-respecting folk singers. For instance, Runnymeade, about the signing of the magna carta, and You Suck, Honey, about Jen's horrid beau who was in his own fake band, called Honeysuck. I feel a post coming on.
Squinkies are little tiny rubbery toys. They are by the littlest petshop and polly pockets in the toy section. Some of them resemble actual animals, and some are little creatures. Little soft squishy things, and they work great for bribery for ones child to use the potty on a regular basis.
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