Fire safety gone wrong

Alan and I were shamed into developing a fire escape plan for the house. It's fire safety time in 4th grade and Sage found us out--we hadn't thought about the subject since he was in 1st grade. So we did our duty and gave a wonderful lecture on all aspects of fire safety. With visions of Sage from our fire drill three years ago, I made sure I stressed that they were never to hide during a fire. (First grade Sage was found in a corner of his room hiding under a blanket as the smoke alarm chirped.)

This fire session was going very well. The boys listened attentively and performed splendidly during our fire drill. When Alan turned on the smoke alarm, the boys stuck together, felt the door before entering the hallway, and did a perfect army crawl to our meeting area at the top of the stairs. I was so proud.

After the drill we were giving more helpful tips and answering questions when Sage asked, "Mommy, I know you are not supposed to use an elevator in a fire, but how about in a zombie apocalypse--can we use an elevator then?"

I had to think about that one before I answered "Yes Sage, you may use an elevator in a zombie apocalypse." Then Shepard asked, "Mommy, can we hide under the bed if a zombie comes in our room and he is on fire." I quickly answered, "No Shepard, even if a burning zombie comes in your room, you cannot hide." Then Sage said to Shepard, "Let's go find some household items we can use as weapons when the zombies attack." Off they ran.

And that is how fire safety went horribly wrong.

Domo Arigato

I was sleeping late this morning. Alan and I can do that now that the boys are able to forage food on their own for breakfast. I was all snuggled up with my man when start to hear music. My eye cracks open, confusedly wondering where it was coming from. Then I realize I am hearing Styx singing "Mr. Roboto." I lift my sleepy head from the pillow and see this sight in my doorway.

Am I dreaming? All that's missing is the smoke. Secret, secret, I've got a secret! Then, Sage treated us to a wake up dance including the Robot--with dangling arm and everything. How does he even know that one? I've said it before and I'll say it again...Life is never boring with Sage around.

I'm Kilroy!!!

Blame it on the brain

My son Shepard is 5 years old and as sweet as southern iced tea. He still loves to cuddle, gives me butterfly kisses, often tells me I'm beautiful, and says he wants to live with me forever. When he smiles it feels like sugar plum fairies are dancing on your heart. But you know every Yin has it's Yang. And Shepard's Yang is the worst case of selective hearing on the planet. The boy can tune out anyone and anything. His hearing is not the problem, that's been checked and it's fine. Yes, the 'man gene' is strong in this one. Even my banshee-like shrieking doesn't register to him if Sponge Bob is on. So, this is how he gets into trouble--well, that and the licking. (see post from 2/4/10.)

I was particularly frustrated last week as I was trying to get the boys out of the building after their gymnastics class. Five "Get your coat on!!!" laters, I found Shepard playing with a friend without a coat on. On the ride home I told him "Shepard, you will be grounded tonight because you did not listen to me." The whining immediately started since Shepard hates to be punished. He was determined to get out of it and here is how it went down:

Shepard: I'm sorry I didn't get my coat on, Mommy, but my friend came up and asked me to play and I accidentally said yes.

Me: You accidentally said yes?

Shepard: Yes, it was my brain's fault!!

Me: Your brain?!

Shepard: My brain did it! (Under his breath he says, "Stupid brain.")

Me: Shepard, you and your brain are the same. You are partners.

Shepard: NO, it was my brain that did it, NOT ME!! I'm telling you it was my brain's fault.

Sage chimes in: Ground his brain! Ground his brain!!

Me: (holding my hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh)

Shepard: So, am I still grounded?

Me: Yes, Shepard, you and your brain are grounded.

Shepard: (under his breath again) Stupid brain, you got me in trouble.

At home, Shepard marched down the hallway toward his room like a man walking the plank. His head was hanging low, his brow furrowed yet still emphatic in his 'errant brain' defense.

Can you see it now? "Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, my client is innocent of the charges. His brain might have led him astray, but my client is INNOCENT!!!" 'If it does not fit, you must acquit' was so yesterday. This is the defense of the decade--'My brain made me do it!!