Yesterday my mother, God love her, took my kids to my grandma’s house to go swimming. She also invited a brother-sister-sister combo group of my kids’ friends as well as their momma.
Side note: My kids are shockingly tan. In stark contrast to their vampirically white mother. I could seriously pass for a Cullen.
No, you’re jealous of my kids’ perfect tans.
My sister also tagged along because she worships the sun more than Dr. Pepper and that’s saying a lot.
What can I say? The girl loves the Dr.
So my mom, sister, my heathens, my grandmother, a stay-at-home-mom that is literally one of the sweetest people that I know and did I mention that she (along with 2 others) is organizing a huge church retreat?? Oh, and her 3 kids were there as well.
So basically a small village was at my grandma’s house all clamoring for a break from the oppressive heat and trying to get in the pool.
When I picked the kids up last night, Mom was giving me a recap of their day.
How Brock swam completely on his own and even helped push one of the younger kids around in her floatie.
How Adrianna loved getting dunked under water (this is seriously a huge step for her. Most days I can barely get her in the bathtub).
How they enjoyed yummy fresh fruit and deli sammies for lunch.
And then she stops suddenly and said, “Oh. My. Gosh. I cannot believe I forgot to tell you this.”
Which obviously means that either my kid heard me doing my former-construction-worker-husband proud by swearing and Brock repeated it or one of them pooped in the pool.
It was neither.
But do any of you remember this story?
Yeah. Sorta like that.
Except apparently Brock told Hayden that his “baby brover died and is in Heaven.”
Surely my mom misunderstood him.
When I asked him about it he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Vat’s what I told him.”
Him: Because I already have a sister. Now I need a brover.
Me: No, why did you tell Hayden that your brother died?!
Him: Because I want a baby brover and you said I can’t have one yet!
Me: Brock. Just because you want something and I said “no” doesn’t mean that you can go around telling people that you had a brother and now he is dead. That is really really mean.
Him: . . .
Me: Brock. Did you hear me?
Me: Well, what did I say?
Him: Um, you said I can have a brover now?? Fanks, MOM!!!!!!!!
So, to recap: Brock is a liar. I am not pregnant. I did not have a miscarriage. Nor a stillbirth. I have 2 very much alive babies (and for that I am truly thankful) one of which has a completely over-active imagination.
P.S. I told Greg about it last night and he said that when little kids lie it’s a good thing. It shows that they have an imagination and can come up with creative solutions to problems.
P.P.S. Greg is just showing off because he thinks that a 4.0 in school actually means something in the real world.*
P.P.P.S. Where the fuck was Greg when I got grounded for an entire summer** for lying?? I could have used the “It’s okay, Mom & Dad. You should actually be relieved that I lied to you because that means that I’m developmentally appropriate for my age and it shows that I’m creative. Not hostile and conniving.”
*Honey, if you are reading this, I’m kidding. I’m immensely proud of you and your big, fat, shiny 4.0. It’s called satire. Relax.
**This is a true story. They didn’t even let me go to vacation bible school that summer. Even Jesus couldn’t help me that year.