I have no idea how our dinner conversations take a left turn. One minute we’re asking the boys about good, hard, and new parts of their day when Ty busts out, Everyone cheered when I walked in the classroom.
Mmkay. Someone isn’t lacking in the confidence department.
Yea, he laughs, shoving a bite of meatloaf in his piehole. They love me. Bry and I exchange looks. Oh.this.boy.
Can you guys tell us stories about when you were little, they ask us. Like when you were naughty or got in trouble?
I love these questions for a million reasons, but mostly because they know their parents are beyond imperfect and it’s their way of relating to us when we were their age. And, no doubt, they are accumulating these stories to use as ammunition in the future.
Of course we comply.
Bry shares first. In kindergarten I was in in a gang. It was called “The Gang” and we created havoc all over the playground. We threw ice plants over the fence and didn’t listen. Apparently we got so out of control, our parents took us to McDonalds for a come-to-Jesus meeting and told us, “you gotta stop this gang thing.”
I go. When I was in 3rd grade I punched my buddy, Jonathan in the stomach at the exact moment the recess lady walked by. To the principles office I went where I had to look at him behind his huge desk while he telephoned the Middle School Principle who happened to be MY DAD. Yea, that was awesome. I look at them, Hey boys, don’t do what mom did and get a referral in 3rd grade, k?
Back to Bry. My buddy Luke and I always played Star Wars at school. Of course he got to be Luke Skywalker because his name was Luke. Some older kids came up to us and threw sand at me. I had just watched Karate Kid, so I tried out the “crane” and kicked him in the stomach and got sent to the principle’s office where the kid told the principle, “He did karate on me.” And I’m thinking, “Yea, I know karate.”
Tanner and Ty are eating this up. And we’re wondering if our early elementary aggression stories are giving them fuel. But the storytelling must go on.
I remember watching Webster when I was younger and trying out some colorful language just to see how it felt rolling off my tongue. My parents asked me to stop, but for some reason, I just.didn’t.hear.them and continued. Consequence? Getting my mouth washed out with soap. Double consequence? Diarrhea for days.
Bry told another story but if I share it, I’d be in trouble (ask the boys).
I wrapped up our storytelling conversation with this one: I had a friend over when I was in 1st, maybe 2nd grade. My mom was making chocolate molds in the shape of rabbit heads. Strawberry chocolate. Into the fridge she laid the sheet for them to cool. “Please don’t touch the chocolates because they are hardening in the fridge.” Got it. The moment she walked away, we whisked them from the fridge, escaped to the backyard and ate every.single.one. When she discovered us, pink chocolate lining our mouths, I had the audacity to tell her, “No, in fact I did NOT eat the chocolates.”
I may have gone through a lying phase when I was younger.
Oh no, we’re in for it.
So there you have it, boys. Tomorrow we’ll probably have the birds and bees talk. Again.
Any lively dinner conversations at your house? Do share.