Saturday, November 20, 2010

No Joke!

Monkey Man FINALLY told a coherent, intelligible joke tonight. He’s moved past the, “What did the dog say to the cat? You’re a TURTLE!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” and peeing himself because that was possibly the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his 5 years on this Earth. And Thank God. Because there is only so much, “That’s really funny. I’m really proud of how amazingly hilarious you made that completely nonsensical joke” you can say to your kid. Sometimes self-esteem is overrated and should be crushed. That’s what therapy is for, right?

Tonight, Monkey Man informed us that he learned a joke in his 5s class. Monkey Man goes to Kindergarten in the mornings and in our school district, it’s only half day. So in order to enrich his growing mind (i.e. keep him busy while I’m at work) he goes to his preschool’s 5s class most afternoons. It’s made up of kids who either missed the highly coveted October 1 deadline, or who go to the neighboring districts with half day Kindergartens. But the 5s teacher totally ROCKS so it’s worth the tuition.

In addition to reinforcing Monkey Man’s sight words, giving him the play time that he doesn’t get in Kindergarten, and treating each of her kids with total love and respect, I need to thank Miss P for teaching Monkey Man a REAL LIVE JOKE.

Tonight, Monkey Man sashayed up to the mic and told hubby and I his joke:
What did the boy ghost say to the girl ghost?
You’re BOO-tiful!

Hubby and I laughed. Like a real laugh. Like a “FINALLY. We’ve passed that I-want- to-stab-action-figures-in-my-eardrums joke stage” laugh. Then hubby said to Monkey Man, “YOU are boo-tiful!”

Monkey Man responded, “I’m a boy, I’m handsome-ful!”

Funny AND smart. Complete package, ladies!

Note: My husband informed me that while he was given 0.2 seconds to think of the punch line, he was trying to come up with what a boy ghost would say to a girl ghost. And this is what he came up with. “I like your boo-bs.” This is why my husband writes inappropriate comics and does not teach preschool.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Memo From Mom - It's Just Ludacris!

To: Enrique Iglesias
Re: Get a Little Ludacris
Date: November 17, 2010

This memo is in reference to your newest song, “Tonight.” Seriously, Enrique, you make me want to move my rumpshaker. And yes, that is a throwback to some early 90s music, because that’s exactly what I think of when I hear, “Tonight.” With that cool, record-spinning, retro 90s techno sound you got going on in this song, I am instantly whisked back to when I hit the clubs. In NYC. A long time ago. You were probably like 8 or something.

I do have a few concerns, however. First, while listening to this song in the car, I might get into an accident. I just have to DANCE. My car thrusts back and forth because my foot is on the gas, off the gas, while I attempt to do the Roger Rabbit and Running Man while safely buckled in my completely uncool Mom car. (Side note: I totally KILLED those dances back in the day.)

My larger concern, however, is not about my personal safety. It is about your lyrics. And I don’t mean this in a, “I am so offended!” way. I feel like you were reaching a little in this song. When I hear, “Tonight,” it is my time to listen to MY music (read: opposite of a song that Monkey Man barks out orders for from the back seat). I do not want to be reminded of Green Eggs and Ham. I will not eat them, Sam I am. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m fully aware that you are not a poetic genius (my apologies if YOU didn’t know that) but this whole refrain is not only too Cat in the Hat, but also quite reminiscent of Adam Sandler’s Cajun Man from SNL (
Here’s the situation
Been to every nation
Nobody’s ever made me feel the way that you do
You know my motivation
Given my reputation
Please excuse I don’t mean to be rude
Cause tonight I’m lovin’ you…

You do, however, get props for using big words. Your collaborator on the song, Ludacris, now, he is a genius. Again, not poetically, but that boy can throw down some wordplay. He might not use big boy words like you, but he makes the listener think. He’s not interested in Dr. Seuss rhymes. He keeps it real. I want to totally give him a fist pound for this beauty:
Winter and summertime
When I get you on the springs
Imma make you fall

What great usage of all four seasons to tell a woman you want to totally knock boots (thank you again 90s for more awesome references).

Enrique, I encourage you to continue your music. But have a little sit down with Ludacris. He may not spew forth words of Shakespeare or Dickinson, but he sure makes me yell, “Yes, now that was one hell of a metaphor!” Even if he doesn’t know it’s a metaphor. Hmm, maybe Ludacris IS a genius…

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

When Life Hands You Lemons...

You get to eat your kid’s Halloween candy. As you might know from reading this blog, Monkey Man is allergic to peanuts (and pecans and shellfish, but that’s irrelevant to this post). We’ve learned to live with it and our family and closest friends are very aware of this potentially life-threatening allergy. We have Epi-pens in our house, in my purse, at his school, and at each of the grandparents’ homes. Family and friends are label-conscious and keep their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches far away. (Well, most of them do. But that’s another post on people who just don’t get it or don’t care).

But when Halloween rolls around, Hubby and I get to reap the harvest of generous neighbors! When Monkey Man’s plastic pumpkin is half-filled with Snickers, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Peanut M&M’s, Hubby and I become 5 year-old children drooling over the booty our little goblin has collected for us!

“Oh, I’m so sorry Monkey Man, but you can’t have THIS, or THIS, or THIS because, sniff, sniff, it has peanuts in it,” I say feigning sadness, while sneaking a glance at Hubby that says, “Oh, yeah. Score." But guess what Mommy’s bringing to work for a little afternoon pick-me-up? Those peanut M&M’s will be perfect at 1:00 when I’m about to head outside for recess duty, aka Tattle Deflection Duty/Bullying Prevention Duty. And this Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup? That will be waiting for me at 3:20 when I walk out to my car for a little more peanut buttery goodness that’s not allowed to be eaten in my own home. MY OWN HOME! It pains me to no longer eat a Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich with a big, cold glass of milk. But these are the sacrifices we must make. And my retribution is to thieve from my child.