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Saturday, January 28, 2006Genetic StrangenessThere's no doubt that they're all Eric's children. All of 'em. Down to the last gene. This morning, Spencer came running into our bathroom with his clothing in his arms. He's a smart lil' guy -- he wanted to get dressed in front of the space heater. He dropped his clothing, made a peculiar face, pinched his nose shut, and ran out of the bathroom, slapping the pocket door shut behind him. "What was that all about?" Eric called from the shower. Really, I had no idea. I hadn't been paying too much attention, since I was busy blow-drying my hair. Four minutes later, Spencer returned. There was a folded-up paper towel Scotch-taped over his nose and mouth. The tape was attached to his chin, his eyebrows, and the bridge of his nose. He looked -- weird. "I had to put this on so I could breathe," Spencer explained. "It really stinks in here." "Oh, does it?" Honestly, things like this don't really shock me anymore. "What does it smell like?" "I don't know. It's just really reeky." Reeky? I peered at Eric through the glass shower door. He was laughing silently into his hands. "It smells worse than vomit," Spencer continued. It was hard to take him seriously behind the paper-towel gas mask. Okay, now before you get any weird ideas about the state of my bathroom -- it's clean. And in spite of the "reekiness" in there, I was perfectly clean, and Eric was in the process of getting clean. No one had recently left an offensive deposit in the toilet. And there wasn't any vomit lying around. I have no idea what prompted the gas mask. So I'm just chalking it up to "Boehme genes." Eric will balk, but he can't deny his own strangeness, so his words will have a hollow ring. Why, just the other morning I walked into our bathroom to put something in the cabinet, and Eric was standing in front of his sink -- staring at it. He wasn't moving; he wasn't brushing his teeth; he wasn't waiting for the water to run hot. No, he was just...staring. "What are you staring at?" I asked. He laughed nervously. He had no good answer. "I'm not a morning person" only works for so long. There you have it. My children are weird because my husband is weird. As for me -- I choose to be weird. That's different than being born that way. I think... (Read Eric's response HERE.) Labels: parenting |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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11of my readers are feeling chatty:
You are too funny...
So did Dr. Spencer Find the source of the foul odor?
Wish you had a picture of that.
The condition you witnessed in Eric is known as Brain Drain. It occurs after a long week, and one morning you wake up to discover your brain melted and poured out your ear during the night.
Symptoms are:
. Walking into walls
. Staring at imaginary fur balls in the sink
. Repeatedly flushing an empty toilet to rid it of those little wiggly things.
. Saying 'ilk' too many times in a blog comment.
You get the idea.
Dave,
That is hilariously true. However, there is another side to every story, so tune in. :)
ROFLOL Dave!!!!!!!
Blogging wouldn't be half as fun if you weren't around to leave comments. :)
Dear Blogging Husband: Do tread lightly. I love you, but methinks I can blog circles around you...
(hee hee hee......)
Staring blankly into the mirror = mid life crisis - I read that in a book once and have avoided mirrors ever since.
I often walk into rooms and just stare mainly because I have forgotten what I went in there for in the first place ;)
So funny Jill...your family is an endless source of humorous stuff.
Okay, although I've left already a comment on this post (coming from Wendy's casing call). Can you believe that I have been three times over at Wendy's and twice I had someone in front of me who I read already - lol...
In a way I am strange myself - I start a sentence to answer a question from my guys, but get hung up and don't know what I was going to say. I think sometimes I think in German to answer and it just doesn't translate fast enough from the brain to the mouth. Strange - huh?
I'm thinking the reak was was one of the boys leaving a gaseous cloud that he was not ready to admit to. At least thats what it would have been with me and my brother.
Too funny! It sounds like something my 7 year old niece would say and do!
Oh, you're so lucky! I've spent my entire adult life looking for a man strange encough to be my match. He's not out there! I guess you got to him first!
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