Wishful Thinking

"I wish for a funny summer," Roman said today at the fountain. It's always money well spent at Bradley Fair...or at least the best return on investment.

That penny is already buying us some laughs on this first day of vacation (for Roman, that is; he finished year one of pre-school yesterday.).

And I'm not just talking about my Gap swimsuit try-on session where the laughing was, of course, to keep from crying. Aside from the usual bikini dismay, I was reminded (again) that it's time to be less self-deprecating in front of my kids. Roman said (again) "Mom, if that's too small you'll look like a sausage."

Also time for him to sit outside of the dressing room. Duh.

Yep, it's been a funny week, with Ben's first practice t-ball game, where his enthusiasm collided with his shaky grasp of the rules; I'd never seen a kid run the bases in the wrong direction...and with such gusto.

So I don't fear any shortage of funny around here this summer, just as soon as we get through Ben's kindergarten graduation next week, marking the official end to my Kindergarten CryFest 2011-2012.

Roman, good call on that wish. Summer LaughFest 2012, here we come.

The Gift of Snark

Mark this one as another milestone day for Ben. And, nope, he still can't tie shoes or mow the lawn, but the kid can (drum roll please)...

Recognize sarcasm!

And thank goodness...we've been laying it on pretty thick since long before he was born.

So, there we were, driving home from the gym, when I commented aloud about sharing the road with a particularly super duper excellent driver.

After a pause, Ben asked, "Mom, are you being funny?"

Hallelujah, he gets it!

Maybe it was inevitable. Our friend Jeremiah predicted during my pregnancy, "that's going to be one sarcastic kid." But he also labeled Wichita "the town that humor forgot," so I started to worry that the gift of dry humor was locked up with the Scarecrow's brain and Tin Man's heart.

Thankfully, I've found and befriended a little pocket of good great-humored people, who aren't openly put-off by my sarcasm. Hopefully they realize I come from a long line of established smart asses, then I married one, so it's beyond my control.

But I can't tell you how many times my (hilarious!) comments to strangers, waitstaff, passersby, etc. have been met by....

Crickets...

Eye rolls...

Blank stares...

Offense.

So, either I change my tone or embrace my new audience: Ben and Roman. And the latter seems more fitting, especially considering Roman's latest, the eye roll, which he was nice enough to let me capture:

Just remind me, when they're 15 and 16, that I once loved their gift of snark.