Sunday we dropped in on my parents for a few hours. Jeremy and I had spent most of Saturday cleaning our house so we thought we'd let Henry and Reese run wild at the Grandparents for a few hours. You know, let the kids mess up their house.
As is typical fashion, our kids can do anything at Grandma Jo's and Grandpa Brent's house. Chocolate milk? You got it. Cookies? Well, we don't have any, but let me drop what I'm doing and run to the store right this very minute to pick some up for you. What? You don't want them now? After I've just returned from the store fetching the very cookies you wanted just minutes ago? No problem.
Seriously, it's like a spa for the kids. A Disney DVD, macaroni and cheese with a Twinkie chaser spa at their house. But it's not all about the food. There's also the activities. Guests who stay at Brent and Jo's Bed & Breakfast also have ample opportunity play kick ball, T-ball and an odd hybrid form of tennis-bowling INSIDE their house. As I watched Henry lob ball after ball into grandma's many house plants I thought back to the many times I was scolded for just walking past them too closely. My mom was afraid that somehow I would kill her plants if I even got close enough to breathe on them, let alone touch them. In her defense, she did have a point. To this day I kill any green thing I come in contact with.
But my lack of a green thumb is not the story here. I know. Just when you thought you were about to read an exciting tale of Botany, I pull the rug out from underneath you. No, I had every intention of stopping by the topic of my son's athletic prowess and eventually zipping on over to how immature I am. Keep reading. This post has nowhere else to go but up.
So, after watching Henry kick and throw balls in every corner of my parent's house, Jeremy decided it would be a good idea to get the little guy a T-ball set. I agreed, but added that we ought to start scouting for agents too. You can never start too early. Well, actually you can. I think age three is a little too early. I'm totally waiting until he's five.
Jeremy: Yeah, I think a T-ball set would be a good idea. He's already got a glove.
Me: The blue one?
Jeremy: Yeah, that's the one!
Me: It's a little stiff isn't it?
Jeremy: Bu....
Me: That's what she said!
Jeremy: (disgusted look) But we can fix that.
Me: That's what she said!
Jeremy: (ignoring me) All we need to do is oil it and break it in a bit.
Me: THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!
Jeremy: (now glaring at me) I just threw up in my mouth.
September 21, 2008
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17 comments:
Most of this afternoon and evening has been one mental knee to the groin after another. Your grossing out of your husband made me laugh.
What is it that shuts off in your parents brain when they become grandparents? They are all the same.
Is it somehow possible that you are my husbands secret sister- cuz you just totally described my in-laws there... but my MIL doesn't wear pantsuits, so I guess not- but still!
We all revert back to 14 year olds sometimes- everytime we eat out, I blow the wrapper off my straw and peg my husband in the forehead. The he says, "you suck!", which I usually ignore, but I'm pretty sure my new comeback will be "that's what she said-" hee-hee
You'd fit in so well around here.
God, you kill me. I wish I had half the "that's what she said" talent that you do!
So many pull quotes, so little comment space! Twinkie chaser! Ha! Love it!
Note to self: Must master the fine art of "Thats what she said." I'll try it out sometime today and report back to you on my horrible failure and the confused look on The Man's face.
mine is the ever popular "your mom (insert whatever was just said here)"
as in:
"your mom has to rub some oil on it and break it in a bit"
bryan always trumps me because his response to that is invariably in the following vein:
"my mom DIED from rubbing oil on it. have some class."
Woman=1
Man=0
You win!
That's my girl!
haha Men turn us into the bad mouthed partners, don't they? I was all innocent thoughts and rainbows and unicorns until I met my husband... *snort*
That is nothing. I grossed out the Internet yesterday.
We refer to my parent's house as Nana Camp.
Did you ever know that you're my hero?
Why can't I fling around "That's what she said," with such grace, such perfect timing?
Also, the grandparent thing? Insane.
My parents will feed my kids anything and everything that they want at any time of day or night. Ice cream before dinner? Of course. Soda before bed? No prob. I would have been beaten for even requesting such indulgences as a child.
Nice timing! My son gets the same experience at his grandparents' house. There must be a correspondence course offered through AARP.
Sometimes my kids will look at me and tell me they want to make a craft, so I'll cheer "OK!", but then I'm looking around, wondering what to do next. Enter my MIL! That woman is forever making magic (some might not call it that) out of plastic lids and toilet paper rolls and old postage stamps. My question is just how long do I have to keep these so-called craft masterpieces around MY house when the kids bring them home?
Also, I LIVE for moments in which ot inject a "That's what she said!" Very well done!
Excellent use of the that's what she said. In our house, it's that's what the girl at the picnic said. There's no good explanation for that.
I have a henry. And he kicks balls in the house, too. Also, he's just at the right height to head-butt balls in our house. And I can't keep from laughing. It's funny every single time, probably because I am not the Keeper Of The Balls.
LOL!! Yeah, grandparents do tend to switch - the worst part of it is when they say they treated you just the same way as they treat the grandkids - what bull!
Clicked through from The Bloggess. Anything titled "...But I finally managed to gross out my husband" is something I'm going to read. haha--there's nothing better than a well placed "That's what she said" I make it a daily goal to gross my husband out!
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