You are now free to move about the back seat

Jack: (from the back seat of my car) Can we play airplane?

me: Okay. Thank you for flying Mom-Air! Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff.

Jack: When do we get snacks?

me: Keep your seatbelt fastened sir, we’ll come around after we reach 30,000 feet.

Jack: Can this hill be like we’re taking off?

me: Okay (I hit the gas a little and fake airplane taking off noises)

Jack: Are we up in the air yet?

me: We have reached our final altitude here at Mom-Air. The captain has turned on the “brush your teeth” sign.

Jack: Mommmmm, that’s not fun!

me: The flight attendants will be serving minty or plain flavored dental floss for your convenience.

Jack: There’s no bathroom on this plane!

me: Guess you have to hold it then. And you can floss right in your seat!

Jack: What about real stuff?

me: It’s Mom-Air, so it’s all stuff that Mom’s like.

Jack: That’s weird!! (but he’s laughing)

me: We will offer healthy snacks such as celery and apples.

Jack: Why don’t you just say “a tasteless snack will be served soon”?

me: (now I’m cracking up) That’s pretty good Jack.

Jack: Or how about “you are free to levitate any person you want back to your seat to be your slave!”

me: Sigh…


Weird games we play

Is this normal? I think it is…but now I wonder… I guess anything is “normal” with a 6-year-old. Or, rather, anything that is actually normal, wouldn’t be normal in our house. Wait, what? I don’t know…



This is a game that somehow came to life by itself. I could not even tell you exactly how it started. It involves me standing near the kitchen island and becoming a “door”. I block Jack from getting around the kitchen island, and he has to come up with creative ways to make me move. See, I’m a magic door that moves and sometimes talks. I definitely dance. Or think that I can. Anyway, Jack tries a combination of things such as pushing my hands, stepping on my feet, or poking me in the stomach, and based upon my mood, the “door” does something in response.

For instance: Jack pushes on my left hand and I start to spin around. Then he tries to get by me while I’m spinning and not get caught in the door. Then he runs around the island and starts over. Next he pushes my right hand and I slap him. He pushes it again and I slap him again. (not child abuse slap, just a whap on the cheek). He cracks up every time. It’s his favorite thing. Then he pushes both hands at the same time and I move quickly forward and backward and he has to squeeze by me to gain access to the kitchen.

Sometimes the door chases him and his squeals can be heard around the neighborhood. Sometimes the door traps him and sometimes the door gets dizzy and falls down. Either way, it’s hilarious. I even sometimes get to work on getting dinner ready as I wait for him to run around the counter. It’s a win win! Now, why it’s called “poses” I’ll never know. You’ll have to ask him. I would call it, uh, “door”.


“Hot Cross Buns”

Yes, the nursery rhyme, not the food item. We’ve played this since Jack was maybe 2 and memorized the words to the song. I blogged briefly about it in January…see number 9. It’s an annoying song, but catchy. This game involves me singing the lyrics in a very low manly voice, which is not very hard for me to achieve. Ahem. I’m not sure why the voice has to be like that, but it just does! I have to lay on my back with my knees bent and Jack uses my knees and legs as a slide. Sometimes he slides towards my feet and sometimes he lands on my stomach. He will literally play this until my ab muscles give out and I start crying. That’s why now that he’s 6, and a very heavy kid, I keep my cell phone close by. If he ruptures my spleen, I do not want to have to crawl to find my phone.



Not the card game, which I talked about in this post. Actual war. Which means that Jack gets to use his most bad-ass nerf dart guns and I usually get some sort of broken fake toy gun that doesn’t even make noise. I have to continually expose myself to his most awesome shooting skills so that he can peg me with darts. Oh, and I have to pick up the darts and return them to him after they’ve blasted bits of me onto the ground. Not cool! If I try to “gain” one of Jack’s weapons, just so I have a fighting chance, he calls me a cheater and sometimes quits the game. He has to be king, and I guess I better get used to that.

There are a few others that we play, but I’m feeling carpal tunnely so I’m going to stop typing now. Sitting here, eating pita chips and typing is just EXHAUSTING I tell you. I think I’m going to take a nap. 🙂


Do what I say, not what I do

Jack: Do we have time to play and still catch the bus??

me: (yawning) Since you woke up at 5:30, we have plenty of time to do both actually.

Jack: Yayyyy! Let’s play police in the dining room. (he runs over to the table which is covered with lego police guys, cars, army guys, various flying machines, etc)

me: (grabbing a guy and doing fake guy voice) Hey, throw a net on this big kid and drag him over here.

Jack: Mommmm….not funny. Don’t play with those guys.

me: (picking up the helicopter and making whump whump whump noises) He’s looking for bad guys from the air!

Jack: Mom, that’s not what I want you to do. Watch me do this… (he takes his milk cup and surrounds it with police guys…I jumped in to help…)

me: Here, put these guys closer…

Jack: MOM, NOOOO let me do it!!!

me: Jack, really, if you don’t let me play with you, how am I supposed to play with you!

Jack: I just want you to play how I said to play!

me: And how was that again?

Jack: (matter of factly) I already told you how. Stop touching those guys. (and he goes back to playing while I sat thee and watched)

Bossy much? No way he gets that from me, right? (nonchalant whistling)