Boys in...Hoods

Ready for yet another entry in the neverending saga called "My Sons are Goofballs"? (If not, you've been warned: run away now!) So, last night they were goofing around together (NOT arguing or poking or tackling or shoving or any of the other obnoxious ways they interact these days...thus I seized the rare and delightful opportunity to just let them do their thing) when suddenly one of them decided it would be a splendid idea to put on fleecy winter hats. (Because, naturally, nothing really completes your...pajama ensemble...quite like a ski cap. Those boys, they sure do know how to accessorize, right?) Derek then proceeded to strut around, arms folded, chest puffed out (as much as possible for a boy whose ribs are countable...through his tee-shirt), and declared himself "Sooooo swag!" (For those unfortunate souls who are sadly deprived of a Middle School child in their lives, (you can borrow mine anytime...wait, was that out loud? oops...) this currently-popular, totally overused slang term simply means "cool".

Anyway, it took me a while to get a handle on my hysterical laughter--watching my suburban middle-class son, with his twinkling eyes, ear-to-ear grin, studious-looking glasses and small lock of hair escaping to curl innocently on his forehead...trying to promote his...I don't know...Inner Gangsta? Oh, it was QUITE the spectacle, I tell ya. I reached into my (very very shallow) pool of rap music knowledge and came up with, "What, you and Snoop Dogg are gonna hang out now?" (Yeah, that's all I could come up with...I'm not even pretending to know what I'm talking about, here...) But he instantly leaped to his feet and sprinted from the room, shouting, "Yes, we are!" I should have seen this coming...a moment later he returned, triumphantly carrying Snoop...y...Dog and wearing a pleased-as-punch expression. Sigh. You win that one, my son. Well played.

But hold on--the one that actually brought the house down was yet to come. I was still chuckling, teasing both of them about needing some serious work on their "street cred".  A few minutes later (of continuing to prance and parade around the house, acting utterly ridiculous for our entertainment), Riley announced with absolute conviction that he was busy working on his (Wait. For. It.) STREET CURD. That just about finished Derek--he commenced rolling around on the floor in spasms of glee, until he calmed down enough to interject, "Yeah, you like tofu...so maybe you have bean curd!" Which cracked him up anew, until Riley capped the whole preposterous discussion off by asking in exasperation, "Okay, then, what is it really? Street...crud?" Yes, my sweet child, that's exactly what it is, in this case. You and your brother are positively full-up-to-your-eyeballs with...street crud. (And I can only hope that comes off in the shower...)