Trick-or-treat, except no tricks please because my kids are stupid

My kids are still working on becoming funny. At least I hope they’re working on it, and that where they sit right now on the funny spectrum is not where they’ll remain. Funny is important to me. The fact that it’s lost on my children leaves them not getting 62% of what comes out of my mouth. Since the remaining 38% is made up of directives they’re ignoring, we have a major communication problem over here.

When my then 5-year-old son shouted back to me from the door of a stranger’s house on Halloween night, “Mom, she doesn’t have any chocolate, is it OK if I pick something else?” I realized that my kids are too earnest for my tastes.

See, I (jokingly (totally not jokingly)) told my son to make sure he gets lots of chocolate. The for me was implied. He did not pick up on the implication. He took it as a rule or mission of Halloween. He took it as advice from his mother who looks out for him and knows more about Halloween and the world at large than he does.

And nothing I said for the rest of the night could change his mind.

“Honey, I was just joking. Get whatever candy you like,” I said.

“But you said to get as much chocolate as I can. I’ll get chocolate,” he said.

“You are evil. You better blog about this,” husband said.

Every house was the same. My kid shouted back to me, “This one has more than one kind of chocolate, does it matter which I get?” and “This one has chocolate and Skittles. I really like Skittles. Is it OK if I pick the Skittles?” Once he even said to the kind stranger holding the candy bowl, “My mom wants me to get chocolate. Do you have any chocolate, maybe in your pantry?”

He had no idea that I was planning on stealing any candy from him. It would never occur to him that I’d want candy or play such a trick.

I seem to never learn the lesson that my kids don’t pick up on subtlety, irony, sarcasm, and jokes meant for the adults in the room. I made my daughter cry once when she saw me handing out ice cream sandwiches to her brother and to each of the 3 neighbor’s kids and asked “Can I have one too?” I said, “No. I’m giving ice cream sandwiches to all the other children but I’m going to give you onions for dessert.” Even though I assured her I was joking and quickly handed over the ice cream, she cried again a few days later when she asked for dessert and I said, “Onions for dessert!” Kid cannot take a joke.

While other parents anxiously await their children to achieve milestones like tying shoes and learning to read, I’m waiting with baited breath for my kids to grasp sarcasm, trickery, and actually funny jokes.

trick or treat

Nerdy Mom

Do you remember hating the SATs? Well, I liked them. I’m a nerd, you see. I liked them and I was good at them. I may not be the most graceful, tactful, or coordinated person you’ll meet; I may not be able to pull off the latest fashion trends; I might never remember when it’s crazy sock day; but I can take a standardized test like a boss.

This skill is useless. No matter how enviable it may have seemed in 11th grade, I assure you that it has little application in my current life, and I’d be better off remembering crazy sock day.

But, alas, we can’t choose our talents.

I loved those analogies you hated so much from the verbal section:

Analogy

And of course I adored the logic problems that you so despised:

Logic Questions

The upside to my nerdy proclivities, (not upside really, more like side-side as this is not in any way a benefit to anyone,) is that I sometimes think in terms of SAT formatted questions. Lately I’ve been seeing opportunities for SAT-style questions all over my parenting.

Nerdy Mom Analogies

And now for some of that wonderful logic:

Nerdy Mom Logic

If you need me, I’ll be geeking out and cracking myself up in the nerdiest way possible.

 

The birds and bees before sunrise

“I have feet just like Daddy’s.”

“You do. But smaller.”

“It’s his genes.”

“His jeans? Hahahahahaha. You can’t wear Daddy’s jeans! Hahahahahahaha.”

“No, not those jeans. His genes. DNA. It’s what he’s made out of.”

“Oh, those genes. Because you’d look funny in Daddy’s pants.”

“But how did I get Daddy’s genes for big feet if I was made inside of Mommy?”

This conversation happened over my head as I “slept” this morning at 6:15. At this point, I had to get involved.

“You have half of Daddy’s genes and half of Mommy’s. You grew inside of Mommy’s body but it takes both a Mommy’s and a Daddy’s genes to make a baby. So you’re a mix of the two.”

There. That should cover it. We’ve talked about this stuff before, but we’ve never gotten to the actual mechanics of how the baby starts. They know how it ends, and Sally is already hoping for a c-section and Luke is very happy he’s a boy. Are we really going to have this conversation here and now. In the very bed where, well, the starting part happens?

“But what if the daddy wore a glove when he touched it? Then the baby would only have the mommy’s genes.”

“What?”

“You know, when he touches it. If he wore a glove, none of his DNA would come off.”

“What? What do you mean? Touches what?”

At this point Luke touches his finger to the pillow beside me, and says,

“See, I left some DNA on the pillow. But if I had a glove on I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh, I see. You’re right. You have DNA in all the cells in your body. So when you touch something you might leave some skin cells behind that have DNA in them. That’s not how babies get their daddy’s DNA, but it is how cops can solve crimes.”

Yes, let’s talk about crime scenes instead.

“So where do babies get their daddy’s  DNA?”

“From the daddy’s sperm. The sperm has the dad’s genes and the egg has the mommy’s. When the sperm and egg combine, they make a unique person who is a mix of the two parents.”

“Where does the sperm come from?”

And here we go. Answer only the question that is asked. Answer only the question that is asked…

“Men make sperm in their testicles.”

“So my testicles have sperm in them?”

“Not yet. You’ll start making sperm when you go through puberty. Around the same time your voice changes and you grow body hair.”

“When a girl shares a room with her brother, she has to move out when she’s about 12 because she gets hairy.”

“What? Um, well, a girl might go through puberty around 12, and I suppose if a sister and brother shared a bedroom they might want to be separated as they get older.”

“Who will look after Sally when I move out? I don’t want her to be alone.”

“You mean when you go to college? She’ll be big. 16.”

“Yes, but that’s when more serious things can happen and I won’t be here to look out for her.”

Well, this has taken a surprising turn. At this point, Sally buries her head and says,

“What if someone steals me?”

“No, Sally, no one will steal you! You’ll be 16. People can’t steal a 16 year old. Right, Mom?”

Um, potential abduction of my teenage daughter, or the birds and bees?

“We’ll be here to take care of Sally. Do you have any more questions about babies?”

“How does the sperm get out of the daddy and into the mommy?”

And there it is folks. The million dollar question I’ve been waiting for.

“It comes out through the man’s penis. A man and a woman have what’s called ‘sex.’ That’s when a man puts his penis into a woman’s vagina and then the sperm come out and meet up with the egg. That then grows into a baby, for 9 months inside the mommy.”

Well done, Allison! Just the facts, using real words, no embarrassment. Damn, you’re a great mom.

“What if it’s born after just 4 months?”

Gah! WTF, kids? I just told you about freaking sex and you just want to skip right through to miscarriages and dead babies?

“A baby needs to stay inside long enough to live. 4 months isn’t enough. It’s supposed to take 40 weeks. The longer the better but really it needs to be in there for a good 30 or more weeks to be born and survive without any big problems. So, any more questions?”

“Can we have pancakes?”

Pin me: Birds and bees