So, for today's round of WestEnders silliness, I offer you these snippets of actual, unadulterated (pun sort-of-intended) conversations that happened in various encounters with my precious offspring this past week:
One evening when I was relaxing in front of the TV, I heard Derek come down and begin rustling around in the kitchen. This is his usual routine, to pack his lunch before turning in for the night, so I didn't think anything of it. But I needed some tea, so I wandered in...and caught him putting something back in the pantry, with his mouth suspiciously full of...an unidentified...crunchy substance.
Now, having been a parent for quite a while...and knowing my child as I do...I had no trouble instantly putting the proverbial two and two together, so I demanded, "Are you eating COOKIES?" His red face and sheepish grin confirmed his guilt better than any verbal confession could have, but he still made a valiant attempt to dodge the question by answering, "Um...maybe?"
Then, before I had time to formulate a reply, he threw in, "Hey, I'm just practicing for college!" Well...he might be an adolescent male, with the blessed metabolism of a hyperactive fruit fly, but I still have to do my job...so I gave him my best Mom Glare and scolded, "That's a terrible idea--it's bedtime! You're not playing soccer this season; you don't need the extra calories at this time of night!"
However, I must have momentarily forgotten that I was attempting to use logic and reason on a 16-year old (I know, I know...silly me), because his response was a perfectly noncommittal shrug, a slight smirk, and the retort, "Hey, I run...once a month..." Siiiighhhhh...I give up. Thus my new motto shall be: Let them eat Oreos...
Okay, the next little gem isn't immediately related, but bear with me, it ties in later. Another night this week when Husband was out of town on a business trip, the boys were eating dinner together and talking about school. Derek shared that in A.P. Bio they're studying chromosomes...and in discussing the difference between males and females, the teacher told them to remember: "Y = Penis".
Having met the man in person at several Back-to-School nights, since this is Derek's second class with him (for obvious reasons, yeah? I swear, I'd take his course if I could--he always sounds like such a hoot...), I have a very clear picture in my head of him imparting this wisdom to a room full of students...and I was cracking up already. But wait, there's more! Derek continued, "Then he told us that if any of us called that out in our Math class, he'd bail us out of trouble with the administration...and give us extra credit!" Oh. Dear. Heaven. Can you imagine? Somehow I don't think Derek's Pre-Calc instructor--a petite blond lady who seems quite serious about her subject--would appreciate that...
Now pay attention--here comes the segue: after finishing his meal, Derek declined dessert, which would have been shocking, and cause me to, I don't know, take his temperature or something, if he hadn't announced, with a sly glance in my direction, "I'll have my cookies later...like around 10:15 or so,". And--because I treasure these heartwarming Mother/Son bonding moments so much and want to prolong them--I wagged a finger at him and warned, "But you can't do that....they'll go straight to your hips!" To which he, without even appearing to have to think about it, which kind of scared me, to be honest--shot back, "Eh...wide birthing hips are a good thing, right?"
Ay yi yi. I slapped my forehead and yelled back, "HELLO...do you need to be reminded already that Y = Penis?" But believe it or not, he was ready for that, too: "Yeah? Well...I'm a seahorse!" he triumphantly proclaimed. Aaannnnd...I gave up. Seriously? What can you do with that? Except, of course, pause to explain it to a puzzled Riley, who hadn't yet been educated about that particular ocean denizen's...gestational...surrogacy...trait. Well...now he's been brought up to speed...so we can consider it a...learning experience? Yeeeaaaahhh, we'll go with that...and maybe after all this nonsense, I need...and/or deserve...to go sneak some of those cookies...shhhhh!