While I am usually so full of snark and stories, you know the kind that make you wonder what divine being ever thought it was a good idea to allow me to have children, and even better...more than one! This week I just seem to be plum tired. Not that there aren’t plenty of funny moments, I just didn’t seem to have the energy to tell them…until today.
My friend and I had set our kids up to do a project at the library. Now mind you this meant that we had to corral our boys that are virtually the same age in a quiet place, for over an hour. This is a feat let me tell you. The boys were running around, fighting over blocks and cars, and finally settled on putting the earphones for the books on tape, and singing really loud. (Which when you are two and three consists of “laaaa laaa Peanutbutterrrrr laaa deee daaaa laaa when I drive meeeee mommmeeeeeeee llaaaaa in a traiiiinnnnn” I mean we aren’t talking “Bad Moon Rising”)
We started to recover from this embarrassment with lots of shushing and “in public correct parenting,” when, another little boy brought out this box of rubber snakes, flies, and frogs etc… that the library had left over from a Harry Potter Exhibit. Henry, clearly thinking that this is the coolest box of stuff EVER, runs over and immediately picks up the longest grossest looking snake in the pile.
Side bar: Now, I am not scared of snakes, I am thankful that my father or my husband were not there because they very well could have run from the library screaming like pre-pubescent girls if they were in charge…but I was OK…UNTIL, Henry started saying, in his NOT library voice,
“Mommy, come touch my snake.”
My friend and I looked at each other, and in a true Farley brother’s moment, started giggling. (Yes we ARE THAT MATURE.) OK so that is kind of funny, no big deal… the problem is, he wouldn’t stop saying it. He kept following me around the library asking me to touch his snake. The other mothers were laughing, although one of the librarians looked horrified and I thought she might have to take medical leave or something.
He finally stopped when he noticed my friend, whom he calls “Pretty Lady,” reading a story about trucks to her son. He sat down next to them and listened to the story. Then, in true Henry style, stuck his head in-between my friend and the book, looked up at her with his big brown eyes, and a look of true earnest flirtation, and said “Hey, Pretty Lady, want to touch my snake?”
I have found my laugh button again…thanks to Henry.