Nick at Pee Pee Fountain

Things My Boys Think Are Funny

Little boys can laugh at almost anything, it takes the smallest trigger and they are like a pack of hyenas giggling like crazy.  But, what really gets my guys laughing is anything that has to do with a bodily function including but not limited to: pee, poop, farts, puking, spitting...

Last week my mom and I took my guys to a water park, there was a lazy river, slides, and really cool splash areas, but what my guys liked best of all was a small fountain designed to fill water guns.  They called it pee pee fountain and took turns pretending they were going to the bathroom for over twenty minutes.  There was a similar pee pee fountain (aka broken sprinkler) we would pass walking my oldest to school.  I could actually get the younger boys to get dressed and out of the house faster if I promised to walk by pee pee fountain on the way home.

Jack and a whoopee cushion

For almost a year Jack's favorite toy has been a whoopee cushion.  He is already on his third one.  He can play with that thing for hours.

But what really cracks Nick and Michael up is the fact that Jack has taught himself how to fart and burp at will.  He mostly likes to do this in the car.  Unfortunately his burps sound a bit like choking which can be a big distraction when driving and it's gross.  I bet car rides are a lot different for moms of girls.

Kids tell a story about poop

Viral Videos and My Kids

I started a job a few months ago working on a new clip show.  A part of my job involves scouring You Tube for funny viral videos.  My kids think this is the coolest thing in the entire world.  Every night as I walk into the house the first thing Jack (3) asks is "Mommy did you find any funny videos?"  My answer is usually yes, and if I am feeling tired and am too lazy to actually play I will answer, "Want to watch some?"  The kids always do, and given that it's a family show, most of what we watch is completely fine.  That is until the night that for some reason I was dumb enough to introduce them to Parkour.  For those of you that don't know what Parkour is, it involves free running and performing gymnastic type moves all over the city, flips off walls, jumping off of things, and overall maneuvers that could kill small children.  Needless to say, the boys all thought Parkour was awesome.  Now instead of getting to sit on the couch and relax I had to watch the boys attempt Parkour in our house.  By watch I mean save children from crashing through glass, diving on their heads, and protect a very daring 5 year old basically from himself.  Tonight when they asked to watch funny videos, I just put on Dope Zebra.

Germ City

Second Grade was a good year for my oldest son, Mike.  He learned a lot, had fun, made new friends, and wrote a poem that I am pretty sure will be celebrated for years to come.

 Germ City 

by: Michael Olsen

A dumpster is a house for a hobo.

A paper is a house for words.

A railing is a house for germs.

A person's a home for a demon.

A house is a house for me.

I will now attempt to dissect this poem beginning with the first line.  My kids have recently started calling homeless people hobos.  Apparently that is how their friends are also referring to the homeless these days.  After all they are growing up in 1950.  Though after my three year old yelled "look a butt" (he confused butt and bum) at the homeless man we walked by the other day hobo doesn't seem that bad.

Line two of the poem doesn't need much explanation, I actually think Robert Frost may have said similar.

Line three is my fault, I may have a slight hand sanitizer addiction.  Not in the way that prisoners are currently drinking the stuff, I just occasionally ask the boys to wash their hands with it to kill germs.  And railings are disgusting!

A person's a home for a demon may be my favorite line and I have no idea how he thought of it.  Maybe, Goosebumps?

The final line is again self explanatory.  I hope he likes his house, and that it is a house for him for a long time.  Or, until he turns 18 and I send him off to college.  Do you think the admissions office at Harvard will appreciate this poem?