Land of Boz

Yep, it’s that time of year again… when my wife says, “let’s not exchange gifts this year” and I say, “okay, sure, but for real this time? or like the last <insert increasing number here> times when you said that and then you got me something anyway?” and then she says, “no, no - for real this time” but then I know I need to figure out PRONTO what I’m going to get her so I don’t look like a complete tool come Christmas day when she hands me a present that she swore she wasn’t going to buy.
 
It’s also when the same wife starts sweating it out over what we’re going to buy our loved ones. For most of our family, she typically has an idea, or at least knows where to get an idea, so the shopping goes according to plan for pretty much everyone.
 
And then there’s my brother, Chris. Ashlee NEVER knows what to get him and my standard answer of “a girlfriend and a jar of peanuts” won’t work this year, since he actually went out last year and got himself one. (girlfriend, that is… I’m not sure about the peanuts, since he doesn’t bring them over for dinner. ever.)

A little over a week ago, we were all sitting around the kitchen table. Ashlee had made her list and was checking it twice when she blurted out, “WHAT are we going to get Uncle Chris?!?”
 
Gretchen answered, “Hey, how about we get him an Xbox?”

I stated, slightly shocked at how frivolously cavalier my offspring was with the family funds, ”No, he already has one.” 

“Okay,” she continued, slightly deterred, “how about we get him a Wii?”

“No good,” I countered, “we bought OUR Wii from Uncle Chris.” Gretch was getting flustered.

“FINE! Then give him some pudding and some fake grapes!”

Ashlee, laughing, looked at me, “She is SO. YOUR. DAUGHTER.”
I couldn’t have been more proud.

One of the guys at work (let’s call him “Jim”) returned from vacation yesterday and was telling us how his 4-yr-old had let loose with a gigantic SBD fart on their flight back home. He said it was becoming apparent everyone around was noticing when his offspring announced, “DAD… I FARTED!” 

Jim, of course, thought it was hilarious, but tried to maintain some sobriety to the moment by giving a half-hearted “Son, that is not polite” scolding to the boy, all the while trying not to burst out in a fit of laughter. He then asked me, “Can you believe that?!?”

“Jim,” I replied, “near as I can tell, you’ll be doing that for a while - actually, I’m almost convinced that won’t ever change.”

I then proceeded to tell him how we were at a little Italian bistro this past Sunday afternoon having lunch with my brother & his girlfriend. Gretchen is prone to break wind at a moment’s notice and we’ve been working, tirelessly, to impress upon her the need to excuse herself and go someplace (like the nearest restroom) to release her flatulence.

We were seated at a six-top table with Gretchen, Mae & Chris on the side of the table opposite Ashlee and I. Behind me was a low dividing wall and directly behind that was a 2-seater table with a middle-aged couple, presumably enjoying their afternoon meal. Shortly after we’d ordered our food, but well before it arrived, Gretchen got up and walked over to the edge of the wall behind Ashlee and squatted down, like you would if you were trying to convince a small, timid dog to come over to you. She stood there for a moment, said, “Ahhh” and then returned to her seat, having thus crop-dusted the couple behind us. I’m not completely sure they noticed her, since, bent down, she was about the same height as the wall, but I’m willing to bet the sudden appearance of a small butt protruding from the edge of said wall coupled with their food suddenly tasting much worse was a dead giveaway as to what had just happened.

It is still difficult to keep a straight face during these moments, but I’ve had a LOT of practice. As such, I again tried, in as quiet a tone as I could muster, to emphasize how socially WRONG what she had just done was, but considering that about ten minutes later Gretchen laughed and burst a quick booty-bark, I’m thinking we still have a ways to go.

We were at Gretchen’s school last night for a “quick” meet-n-greet with her teachers. Quick turned out to NOT be the 15-20 minutes Ashlee promised me, but rather over an hour of me being perched on a tiny stool listening to the younger of my daughter’s teachers (she has 2) explain their teaching process while using “UMM” as a: noun, conjunction, adjective, preposition, menial sentence filler and verb. Ashlee made me stop counting them on a tic sheet, which is just as well. After 5 minutes, Ms. Umm had already racked up nearly 3 dozen. I’m not sure the pen I was using had enough ink to keep up.

Anyway, Gretchen had her iPod with her, which she had brought to entertain herself while we listened the What’s What of Umm. Allowing the iPod to accompany us was both a plus and a minus. On the plus side, Gretchen had a way to keep her self occupied while we were otherwise engaged. Minus side? One of the apps she chose to play with was The Atomic Fart Machine. Even I can’t play with that without laughing out loud.

Now, before all this, we were all in the main hall, standing patiently, milling about with all the other parents of all the other students for all the other classes. While we were waiting for the fun to start, one of Gretchen’s classmates came up, greeting her with a hug. Her friend asked if she could listen to Gretchen’s iPod too, to which Gretch handed her one of the earbuds but said, “Don’t put it IN your ear, though.”

“Why not?”

Gretchen seemed somewhat revulsed. “BECAAAAUSE it’s got earwax all over it!”

“So!?!” came the reply. “I’m just gonna put it in my ear, I’m not sticking it in my mouth!”