I used to do this every week. And by “used to” I mean “for 3 months.”

It’s been so long I bet some of you have never even seen WTF? Wednesday, that special time when we contemplate and appreciate the verbal whack flowing from the mouths of babes. Or the brilliance. Mostly whack.

Let’s start with a cute one:

Rocket: “Mama, why do you have to go to school?”
Me: “So I can get a job someday.”
Rocket, looking very concerned and sincere: “But you already have a job. Your job is to homeschool Meeeeeee!”

Can we all just say it together…AWWWWWWW.

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Ava: “I want to be a NASA engineer, a mom, a cook or a nurse. As a back-up plan, I’ll be the first woman president.”
Me: “That’s a solid back-up plan.”
Ava: “Well, by the time I’m big everything will be so messed up they’ll need somebody smart to fix it. To get elected, I’ll tell everybody what they want to hear, then I’ll do whatever I want once I’m president.”

Remind me not to vote for her if she’s ever running.

____

Ava: “Fourth grade is really a turning point. Kids are so much more mature. You know we say things like ‘not necessarily’ and appreciate lady Gaga and people don’t make farting noises as often.”

I don’t know, people. I just don’t know.

___________

Rocket, trying to coax Georgia to come over to him…”Georgia, come hhhheerrrree….I have something for youuuuuu…it’s right here…look, you can choke on it…!”

Oh come on you know I couldn’t make this shit up.

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Rocket, playing with Georgia: “You’re a cute 20 minutes!”

Me: “Rocket, what does that mean?”

Rocket: “She’s cute for 20 minutes. Then she’s annoying.”

Huh. That’s funny, that statement pretty much works for all kids, and most people.

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Rocket: “I’m more of a lollipop kind of guy.”

Me: “Rocket, what does that mean?” (Yes, I say that a lot.)

Rocket: “Exactly what I said. I’m more of a lollipop kind of guy.”

Me: “Right. I got that. But you’re more into lollipops than what?”

Rocket: “Everything.”

_________

Ava, as people drove by our house with super loud bass playing: “I bet Georgia has more teeth than those people.”

Me: “That’s not very nice. They could have a whole head of excellent teeth.”

Ava: “No, they spent all their money on that stereo and then couldn’t afford dental care.”

I have NO IDEA where she gets that inappropriate sense of humor.

______

Rocket: “Mama, could you please be less annoying?”

Me: “I don’t think so.”

Rocket: “Why don’t you just try to be less annoying one week at a time. That way you won’t get overwhelmed with the change.”

Gonna be honest, actually considered that suggestion seriously.

Happy WTF Wednesday!

I can’t believe how long it’s been since we’ve had a wtf? Wednesday, in which we celebrate the cute, slightly alarming things the kids say.  My bad.

Anyhoo, here we go…

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Looking at a full moon recently, Rocket says “the dark spots are big holes. I know that because my teachers taught me.” And we all go wild in encouragement, telling him how smart that is, etc., and he responds “Yeah. I don’t just  think about poop all the time.”

+++

So I was doing what I thought was a riveting rendition of “Girls just wanna have fun” while folding a pile of laundry larger than a Prius (appreciating the sweet irony of the moment) and Ava looks at me with disdain, with that “you’re such an idiot” face…and she says, kind of under her breath but clearly audible “I really hope daddy’s genes are stronger than yours.”

+++

Rocket: “Mama, if I counted every day for the rest of my life, how long would it take me to reach infinity?”

Me: “you can’t reach infinity. Infinity never ends. It goes on forever and ever and ever.”

Rocket, walking off: “Oh. Kinda like God.”

[I include the God comments because they trip me out, because they come out of nowhere...as if they know something I don't.]

+++

At a stoplight, Ava says “Mama, I just gave that lady in the car next to us my ‘dragon face.’ The way I do it is I flare my nostrils and make a chipmunk mouth, and I think I look a little like a rabbid squirrel.”

I respond “That’s nice. I bet she appreciated that.”

And Ava says “Yeah, I know I would.”

++++
 

And here is the granddaddy WTF? moment…

As Rocket, Georgia and I are lying in bed together, I can see that Rocket may be getting  kicked, so I ask “Rocket, is Georgia kicking you?”
And he answers, laughing, “Yes, she’s kicking me right in my bald spot!” And since our heads are all together, I deduce that there’s no way Georgia’s feet are kicking him in the head, so I ask ”Oh, where’s your ‘bald spot?’ And he points to his groin.

I don’t even ask.

Welcome to another installment of wtf? wednesday, where we celebrate the brilliance of the little people. Or something. At any rate, have a good one, peeps.

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Rocket, this morning, driving to school: “Georgia is so cute. She is JUST SO CUTE. She’s as cute as rats on pie.”

Right. Rats on pie. That’s cute. (Kids are so weird.)

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Rocket, yesterday morning on the way to school: “Mama, please go in and tell my teachers that I’m sick – not so sick they need to call 9-1-1, but definitely too sick to go to school. Okay, thanks.”

Good plan, with one fatal flaw: the delivery person.

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While in Nordstrom, well actually it was Target, OKAY FINE it was Walmart, Ava saw some hair bows she liked and asked for them. They were $1.00. There were two kinds: huge, obnoxious, babyish ones and cute(ish) little ones. I suggested the little ones. Ava says, very seriously, “No, I want the big ones. They make me look more mature.”

Awwwwww.

Perhaps this little moment isn’t quite worthy of wtf? wednesday inclusion, but it is to me…because it was so innocent, particularly because all the bows were childish, especially the big ones. It was a moment when my little girl was still a little girl – a real one. A whole one – not part little – but ALL little. There are so few of those occurrences these days. Most of the time I’m shocked by her maturity, her vocabulary, her insights, her increasing independence. But that moment gave me my baby back, just for a second, and I loved saying “yes, you’re right, the bigger bow is definitely for older girls.”

And she wears them proudly. And I love them.

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So most of Ava’s friends live in D-town, about 10 miles from us. It is a much wealthier town. Basically, we live in the ghetto town outside of the white money town. Ghetto like farmland, not Compton. Well, actually, there are some seriously wealthy farm OWNERS in our town, but we live around the farm WORKERS, who are, um, not so wealthy. So I asked her the other day “does it ever bother you that all your friends live in D-town and you live here?”

And she responds with all kinds of enthusiasm “NO WAY! I love living here! At least here I don’t get judged for not driving a Lexus!”

Where does she get this stuff? (I swear I’ve never uttered those words).

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A few days later, I gave a bum some money out the car window, while stopped at stop sign. This triggered a discussion of poverty. Rocket was clearly processing the whole thing when Ava suggested that the homeless guy, if he ever gets cold, “should just go hang out at the bowling alley” [because] “everybody at the bowling alley kinda looks like him anyway.”

That killed me.

Then we were discussing how some people are really poor and therefore homeless and other people are rich, and how if there wasn’t any greed, and everybody took from the earth just exactly what they needed and nothing more, there’d be plenty of resources for every person on the planet…Ava thinks about this, then says: “The problem is that so few people are REALLY REALLY RICH, but they have all the power, so they make decisions for everybody, even the poor people, even though they don’t know what it’s like to be poor.”

I promise I’m not trying to raise little Marxists. She came up with that on her own. Although, I was proud.

You see why I cherish the “bow” moments?

Welcome to wtf? wednesday, when we contemplate and appreciate the verbal whack flowing from the mouths of babes. Or the brilliance. Depending.

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This weekend was the “Whole Earth” festival in a town near us. When we drove by it, Rocket says, “Mama, are we going to the Whole Wheat festival this year?”

I almost died. Of course, from this point forward it will forever be the “Whole Wheat” festival in our family. It’s actually quite perfect, considering all the granola crunchy wheat-ish people there.

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Lately we’ve been listening to Eckhart Tolle in the car (I know. I know.). And I’m thinking Ava has no idea what the guy is talking about. I mean I barely understand him and I’m 32. She’s nine. Perhaps that’s her advantage. Either way, I was wrong.

The other day he was talking about ego – the way it prattles on in your mind, telling you things that aren’t true, fucking everything up…and how there’s this deeper self, a “watcher,” who can observe the ego doing its thing and choose to ignore the ego’s rants. When he’s done, Ava pipes up “You know? This guy’s right, because I always have two thinkers in my mind. One is going on and on about how I should care what people think and be upset and angry, but then there’s this other thinker who tells me something else, tells me there’s another way to act, a calmer way. Mostly, though, I listen to the first thinker. Because it’s louder.”

Damn. I couldn’t have said it better myself.

P.S. Can 9-year-olds write spiritual books and earn their parents millions? (Not that I would do that. That would be exploitation.).

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Rocket was in a parade with his T-ball team on Saturday. He woke up so excited to get there. He bounded out of bed, ran into the living room and says “Mama! We need to make like rascals and get to the parade!!”

I have no idea what that means. But I love it so much it hurts a little.

+++++

Here was my interaction with the 5-year-old yesterday morning:

Rocket: “Georgia pooped.”

Me:      “Okay. I’ll go change her.”

Rocket: “Can I come?”

Me:      “Do you have to?”

Rocket: “Kind of.”

Me:      “Fine.”

I take the diaper off. Rocket’s jumping up and down next to me, trying to get a better view. He can’t get a good enough one, though, which results in this conversation:

Rocket: “Is it a big one?”

Me:      “ Sort of.”

Rocket: “Is it soft or hard?”

Me:      “Do we have to talk about this? I find it pretty unpleasant.”

Rocket: [now giggling in delight] “Well, which one is it?”

Me:      “Hard.”

Rocket: “What color is it?”    

Me:      “Rocket! My God. Why do you care about this so much?”

Rocket: [very seriously, with an eye roll] “The question is, Mama, why do you care SO LITTLE?”

And on that note, let me just say ‘have a good Wednesday, my peeps.’

Welcome to wtf? Wednesday, when we contemplate and appreciate the verbal whack flowing from the mouths of babes. Or the brilliance. Depending.

To start, I thought y’all might like to read the two emails Ava wrote her daddy while in Europe. (Yeah, she didn’t write me an email, probably because she hates me because I’m a bad mother and, for the betterment of my offspring (and possibly the world), I should crawl into a cave with astronaut food and a lifetime supply of Jack Daniels. And just stay there.) Wait a minute. Why doesn’t that sound bad to me?.

 Anyhoo, here you go…

Saturday, April 16 (Note: “M.B.” stands for “Midnight Bok Choy,” which is the kids’ rabbit’s name. ‘Midnight’ because he’s all black. ‘Bok Choy’ because (evidently) he likes bok choy, though to my knowledge he’s never actually EATEN bok choy. The kids though are sure he likes it. It’s all something of a mystery.)

“Hi Daddy,

I miss you so much. I wish you were here. You would love it. Did M.B. really have babies? I know that she had babies because I just read your letter about 5 minutes ago. Have you guys named them yet? Has Georgia started crawling yet? Has Rocket been getting into my stuff? If he has tell him I miss him and if he hasn’t tell him I miss him even more. Auntie Molly’s kitty has still not been named but they are thinking about something like T-Rex or Warrior Princess. Email back if you think you have a good name. The other day she climbed to the 3rd step! Well I’ve got to go, Cedric and I are going to a science museum pretty soon! Just remember I miss you so much. I’ll call you later.

Love, Ava G. M.”

 *********

Monday, April 18

Hi Daddy, We came back from Paris à day earlyier than our travel itinary said. So I didn’t get to eat toasted chessnuts over the bridge.:( Our second day was jam packed. We went in and out of shops like my letter said but we didn’t get any cheese:(. I miss you guys so much!!!! This computer is driving me crazy! Because its made for French and every single word that sounds like à French word they say its spelled wrong! And then some times without asking me it just changes word so if theres à French word in here and its something bad please don’t get annoyed its this darn computer. I love you so much!

Your daughter, Ava G. M.

(I love that… “if I inadvertently swear at you in French, it totally wasn’t my fault.” Classic.)

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The other night as I was lying in bed with Rocket, getting ready to read him a story, he says “When you read this to me, I’ll listen nicely. I won’t mess with you the way I mess with my teachers.”

(Sorry, teachers.)

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And a conversation we had just this morning, while I was in my bathroom getting ready for work…

Ava: “What’s the difference between a physicist and a psychiatrist?”

Me: “One studies physics and the other studies the human mind.”

Ava: “Oh. Why does ‘ph’ make an ‘f’ sound in English?”

Me: “Because English is confusing.”

Ava: “Yeah. So is mustard.”

(I looked at her at this point in a bit of shock, due to the incongruity of that statement, thinking she must be joking. She was not joking. She was dead serious. I considered asking her to clarify what she meant, but chose instead to just let it be. Some things are just too awesome to mess with. (I was thinking that could have been a dialogue out of some post-modernist, absurdist play. Beckett would love that shit.)

Happy wtf? Wednesday!

While sitting in the doctor’s office, Rocket noticed a breastfeeding poster, which prompted the question (since he can’t read): “Mama, what is that?” I answer: “Well, it’s a poster to help women learn to breastfeed.” And he says…“That’s weird. Why would you need help? All you do is take the boob out and put the baby sideways. Then they nurse.”

Ah, yes. It’s all so simple when you’re five.

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Rocket, on the topic of his grandmother coming home from Europe… “Good thing, because since Papa doesn’t know how to cook, he must be really hungry by now.”

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Recently I asked Rocket how his friends are at school. He answered “They’re alright. I like Zach best. He is really nice. He’s the nicest kid in the class.”

Me: “Oh yeah? That’s great.”

Rocket: “I think it’s because he has two moms.”

Me: “Why would having two moms make you nicer?”

Rocket: “Because having one mom is nice. So having two moms must be REALLY nice, so this obviously makes Zach nicer.”

(Right…obviously…unless you had two moms like me. Then you’d have…well…I don’t know exactly, but “nice” isn’t the first word that’s coming to mind.)

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AND, you’ll be glad to know that Ava Grace is back safe at home, right here, sitting next to me. She’s been home 14 minutes and already has a wtf? moment…she just said “You know the first thing I thought when I stepped off the plane in San Francisco…?”I answer “no, what?” She says “YAY! No more manners!!”

Whatever. I’m so happy she’s home I don’t care if she forgets her manners for a month. Alright. A week. Let’s be realistic.

I miss Ava. I miss the clever things she says. I can’t wait for her to get back from Europe. One more week. Anyhoo, on her behalf, I’ll share this little story for wtf? wednesday …it has always been one of my favorites.

We were camping at my husband’s family cabin up in the Caribou Wilderness near Mt. Lassen. Ava was about three. We were sitting at the picnic table inside, drinking hot chocolate. Or maybe it was Irish coffee. Well, one thing we know for sure is that AVA was drinking hot chocolate. I was drinking something, most likely involving whiskey. Anyway, Ava asks “Want to ‘say cheers?’” and of course we do, so we clink our mugs and “say cheers” and then Mac says “bottoms up” before taking a drink. We all take a drink, but Ava stops. She looks around at us (me, Mac, my mom) a little confused. Then she sets her mug down, wriggles around into a standing position on the picnic bench, picks up the mug and takes a drink, proudly announcing “I’m drinking with my bottom up!”

Yeah. I love that.

 ******

Merging onto the Bay Bridge on our way to San Francisco, some human in a Lexus SUV totally (dangerously) cuts us off, forcing me to slam on my breaks and yell inappropriate words out the closed window. From the back seat, Rocket asks “Why did that guy do that?” I answer (always a diplomat, you know…) “well I guess he was in a hurry,” to which Rocket responds “Maybe. OR, he’s an idiot.”

(Now where did he learn such skepticism and general intolerance? Totally inappropriate for a boy his age. His mother should really do something.)

*****

Rocket, playing with his wooden sword (yes, exactly the Waldorf type of toy I made fun of in this post), looks very serious and says to me “this sword looks like it’s made of wood. But it’s actually a real sword made of metal but covered in wood, so I won’t hurt myself.”

(Why is that so freaking cute?)

 *****

And then sometimes kids say things that beg the deep philosophical WTF?, because they are so right on – so brilliant in their simplicity. And so GOOD. As in holy. And loving. And perfect. Here’s an example:

Me: “Rocket, are you excited to go to the Japanese Tea Garden?”

Him: “yeah.”

Me: “I know you love it there, but you don’t sound very excited.”

Him: “well, I like it there, but I don’t love it. It’s a thing. We don’t really love things, Mama. We love our family. Plus, Ava isn’t here, so it won’t be all of us. It won’t be ’just right.’”

What he loves is his hanging with his sister. What he likes is the tea garden. That makes sense to him — because why would you ”love” some object, some place or thing? 

Someday he’ll realize that the whole world is based on The Love of Things that now seems so wholly incomprehensible to him.

But until then, he’ll just have his spectacular innocence and sweet clear truth.

love.

This week we’re heavy on Rocket quotes because Ava was gone half the week (in Europe). Still, not bad.

*******

Rocket, whining and making a “puh-lease” face: “Daddy, may I have another cookie?”

Mac: “Yes, but not because you made that face and whined.”

Rocket: “Well, it worked yesterday.”

*******

Me: “What did you learn about today at school?”

Rocket: “I learned about how a frog will puff up his belly to look bigger, so other animals won’t eat him.”

Me: “Smart frog.”

Rocket, with an eye-roll: “Mama. It’s a frog. It’s not smart. It’s trying not to die.”

Dude. He’s five. How the hell was I supposed to know he understands the difference between survival instinct and intelligence?

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And….a WTF? moment brought to you courtesy of the man inhabiting my house.

Me, on Saturday morning: “Mac, we need to clean. The house is thrashed.”

Mac: “But I did dishes this week. Why do I have to clean now?”

(Just fucking shoot me.)

*****

Rocket, to a friend, after I told her our whole family is going to see Further in San Francisco…”Yeah, but it won’t be the same without Jerry.”

Heeheehee.

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Ava, after school, upon being asked how her day went by a family friend: “Well, the bad news is my technology teacher died. The good news is I have a softball game tonight.”

Death. Softball. Whatever.

***

I need a day each week to write the fancy things my kids say. That day shall be Wednesdays. I know everybody and their mother does this and I’m pretty much okay with that. And why am I okay with that? Because kids are smarter than adults.

Because they’re little Zen masters without even trying.

And because I couldn’t make this shit up.

I mean seriously, WTF?

******

Rocket, holding up a small white crystal, looking really annoyed: “Mama, the lady at the store said this crystal was magic, but I just asked it to turn me into a Transformer. And as you can see, I’m not a Transformer. Therefore, she lied.” Poor kid was conned.

*******

After sending the kids to another room for a minute so we could finish an “adult” conversation, Rocket delivered me a note with a very serious face, penned by his sister: “Rocket and I do not like being discriminated against due to our age. Angrily yours, Queen Ava and Duke Rocket.”

******

Ava: “I know what I want to do for my science project next year.”

Me: “Really? What?”

Ava: “I’m going to test who can hold their breath the longest: adults or children.”

Me: “That’s cool, except it may be a foregone conclusion since adults are bigger than kids, they have larger lung capacity.”

Ava: “Oh, yeah. That’s alright. I’ll just use midgets.” (please forgive the politically incorrect term. I’m sure she meant to say…uh oh…wait a minute…what is the P.C. term?).

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Rocket, explaining why he randomly and suddenly wet the bed after 3 years of not doing so once: “Well I thought about it and decided I was too tired to get up. Plus, it’s warm.”

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