Hunger Signs

Lately, I've been out of the house quite a bit, hanging with musician friends and playing chamber music.  My son has not been pleased about this.

When I was about to walk out the door yesterday, he scowled at me.  "Mama, why do you have to go, again?  I'm going to starve!"

I shook my head.  "Bubba, I happen to like playing with my musician friends.  You're not going to starve.  Your dad is here, and so is your sister.  And I'm sure you are perfectly capable of making your own peanut butter and jelly sandwich if they don't do it for you."

"They never feed me.  And I'm a terrible PBJ maker."  He paused for a moment.  "And do you know what else?"

"What else, Bubba?"

"I'm already experiencing the hunger signs."

I tried not to laugh.  "Hunger signs?  Tell me about the hunger signs."

"First, your tummy makes funny noises.  Then it starts feeling sick.  And if you tap on it, it sounds hollow."  He pointed to his tummy.  "Tap on it, Mama."

I did.  "Sounds fine to me, Bubba."

"No, Mama.  You didn't do it right."  He tapped again.  "It's definitely getting hollow.  It's a hunger sign!"

I shook my head and grabbed a banana.  "Okay, Bubba.  Eat this.  It'll fix your hunger sign."

He stared at me in disbelief as I shoved it into his hand, grabbed my violin and viola, and headed out the door.

(I'm such a bad Mama!)      

Schultz's Night at the Movies

Last night was movie night.  As is the custom, we popped some popcorn and plopped down on the sofa in front of the TV.  Our hundred pound German Shepherd, Schultz, joined us.  He lay quietly in front of the screen and watched us watch the idiot box.

About a half hour into the movie, we heard firecrackers.  They sounded like they were being shot off in our driveway.  Of course we had to investigate.  We got up and went outside.

Our neighbors were shooting off some fireworks in the cul-de-sac in front of our house.  We watched the spectacle for a little while, and then went inside.

That's when we found a big surprise.  Schultz decided he wanted some popcorn.  He had knocked the bowl off the table and was happily munching away.

"Schultz!" my husband bellowed.

Schultz stopped munching and slinked off to the corner.  So much for enjoying movie night with the rest of the pack!

The Great Human Migration

My son and I went to go see the fireworks on the fourth of July.  Of course we had to park a million miles away and walk to the site.  As expected, there were lots of people doing the same thing.  Pretty soon we encountered a traffic jam of Homo sapiens.  We plodded along at about one mile an hour.

"Moo," I said.

Bubba looked at me.  "Moo?"

"Yeah, Bubba, we're like a herd of cattle."

Bubba shook his head.  "No, Mama.  We're not a herd of cattle.  Do you know what this is?"

"I have no idea," I said.

"This is the great human migration.  Once a year, on this very special night, humans migrate to see beautiful lights in the sky.  Then they return to their homes.  Isn't that awesome, Mama?"

Uh, yeah.  It was a delight to be a part of such an awe-inspiring event!

Moo.

Old Man Bubba

Yesterday, I saw a strange sight.  My nine-year-old son, Bubba was hobbling around with a cane.

"Dude," I said.  "What's up with the cane?"

"I bumped into something and hurt my leg," he replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that,"  I said. "But why do you need a cane?"

"Because I'm an old man.  Pretty soon I'll be ten, which means it'll take me longer to heal.  I'm not as young as I used to be!"



Happy Fourth of July to all of my American friends!

Mama's New Entertaining Look

I was reading my son a book before I tucked him into bed last night.  He interrupted me with this comment:  "Mama, you need an entertaining new look."

I stopped and glanced up.  "What are you talking about?  Am I not interesting enough?"

The boy shook his head.  "No, Mama."  He spied a sheet of stick-on mustaches sitting on his desk.  "I know what will make you look better."

He peeled off a black mustache and affixed it to my face. "There.  That's perfect."

I continued reading with this thing tickling my nose.

Bubba started giggling.

I wrinkled my nose, trying not to sneeze.

Bubba giggled some more.

I attempted to read, but was interrupted by Bubba's fit of laughter.  "Bubba," I said.  "Are you going to listen to this?"

"I'm trying to, Mama.  But your new look is so entertaining, I can't focus on the story!"

Mama in the Sky Zone

Yesterday, I took my son to an indoor trampoline place - Sky Zone.  Basically, the whole floor is a giant trampoline.  You stay in your square (or rectangle) and bounce around to your heart's content.  (There's trampoline basketball and dodge ball, too.) I figured it would be a good way to burn off some energy.

Of course, I couldn't let my son have all the fun.  I paid to bounce, too - for an entire hour.  I got in my square and started jumping.

Bubba, who was in the square next to mine, looked at me and laughed.  "Mama,  you have a silly smile on your face."

"Uh huh," I said.  "This is fun!"

Then a kid,who was probably in his twenties, next to me, did this mega show off move, where he jumped so high, he almost touched the ceiling.

Of course Mama wasn't going to be outdone by some twenty-year-old.  I took a massive power leap and launched myself upward.  Do you have any idea of what it is like to jump so high, that you're closer to the ceiling than you are to the floor?  And to have no sense of rhythm as to when your feet are going to come back down?  Let's just say it's a massive adrenaline rush.  Totally out of control scary!

My son stared at me when I came down.  "How did you do that, Mama? You were in the Sky Zone!"


(It was a cool place, but my old back is telling me today, that leaping to the Sky Zone probably wasn't a good idea.  The landing was a bit jarring!  Maybe I should act my age.  Nah . . .   It's more fun to pretend I'm still a kid!)
 

Angry Birds

Yesterday, I was wandering around my yard, pulling weeds and vines that threatened to overrun the landscaping.  As I came to a bush on the side of my garage, I noticed a particularly nasty-looking vine sprouting off the top, winding all through the foliage.  That's got to go, I thought.

With my handy-dandy rose pruning gloves, I grabbed that thorny thing and began yanking it out of there.

Two seconds later, I heard quite a commotion.  I looked up in time to see two very angry birds in position to dive bomb me.  I grabbed the vine and retreated to the far side of the bush.  That wasn't good enough.  The birds squawked and swooped down on me.

I dropped the vine and bolted for the garage before those angry creatures could peck my eyeballs out.  They didn't follow me, but they parked themselves nearby, still squawking, and keeping an eye on me.

I really don't think they were protecting the vine.  But I do believe I must've been awfully close to their nest.  All I know, is that is one Mama (and Papa) I don't want to make angry ever again!