They're talking in a language I don't speak

Dinner at the Casa is nuts. I'm not sure what it is about that block of time between 5pm-7pm, but the Boy(s) are usually wound up like an 8 day clock. This makes sitting down to a family dinner extremely challenging. Factor in My Lovely Bride had Drunco in Southern Oklahoma so she passed the Boy(s) baton to me, pretty much, as soon as I entered the door, and well, it is hard.

Remember all the times I've told you I'm an idiot? For those that think maybe I'm trying to be funny, or being hard on myself, dig this. I decided last night, at dinner time, crazy time, that was a good time for me to have the cancer conversation with the Boy(s).

It went pretty well considering the subject matter. I talked myself into a few corners, but, again, I'm an idiot so you'd expect that I would illustrate what bald is be citing Uncle Chewning, only to realize that wasn't the smartest thing to say because the Boy(s) might assume he had cancer. Or was taking chemotherapy. So, I tried to explain male pattern baldness along with cancer, and chemotherapy, and all of that. During most of my talk, Wy Wy was more interested in playing with his ramen noodles than what I had to say on the subject. Ethan actually listened, and had a few questions for me. My favorite, "What's a wig?" at which point he hopped up from the dinner table (a no no at dinner time, that we half ass enforce) and grabbed an old ball of play-dough that was by the art table (which is near our dinner table.)

Knowing what the Boy had in mind, I said, "Ethan. Don't throw that...(as he threw it across the table hitting Wy on the top of the head, which was a pretty good shot.)

Fuming, "ETHAN!!!" I paused. Trying to stay in the now, count to 10, all the while looking at Wyatt, since my sight line was on the flight path of the play-dough, "Why didn't you obey me!"

As Ethan stood beside me stammering for an answer, Wyatt stopped playing with his ramen noodles and went from 0-60. He was pissed. He actually looked more upset than me.

"DA!" He shouted. "I'm not a baby! I'm a boy! Little boy!!!!"

Indeed. And I'm an idiot, who also talks fast and mumbles.

Until I BLOG again...Nothing's really making any sense at all.