I’m certain that when God gave me my boy, He was simply exercising His sense of humor.
And what a sense of humor He has.
Last night, I was setting the table for dinner. I placed 3 lonely baby carrots on Jensen’s Lightning McQueen plate. He wandered by his chair, and shot his plate a sideways glance as he stated, “Mommy, those are for wabbits, they are NOT for me.”
Usually, I puree any vegetables I might want to sneak into an unsuspecting Jensen. I can hide them in pancakes and muffins, for example. But on occasion, I throw caution to the wind, and just slap a real live whole vegetable on his plate.
Just to watch him freak out.
Because, hello? Entertainment value.
He then carried the 3 rejected baby carrots to me in the kitchen. I instructed him to go put them back on his plate. He placed them on the kitchen table and pushed them as far from his plate and he could reach.
During dinner, I noticed that the 3 carrots traveled around the table a bit, and then disappeared. I’m sure they ended up inside of a sister. A sister who wasn’t born vegetable phobic.
And because I’m all about letting it all hang out, there was another episode at the library. I thought I should report that. Last week I was standing at the circulation desk, willing the librarian to hurry it up, so that I could escape before incident.
At that moment I heard Cailey call attention to the area directly behind me, with a loud, “JENSEN!” I turned to see Jensen stick both hands down his pants. I knew in another 2.5 seconds, he would be naked from the waist down.
I dove 10 feet across the floor to tackle him before he would be cited for indecent exposure. Luckily, I got to him before he showed no more than your garden variety plumber might show during a housecall.
But then, today was Emme’s birthday. My baby is 9. And to celebrate, she had a few good girlfriends over for girl fun and frivolity.
At one point, I heard loud shrieking. Which, ordinarily, wouldn’t have alarmed me. Because girls are wont to shriek when clumped together. But, this was a more urgent sounding shriek. And I may have detected fear.
I turned the corner to find Jensen standing in front of this innocent gaggle of girls. Naked from the waist down.
These are girls who don’t have the benefit of a brother, so as I scooped him up, I apologized to the girls for their burned retinas and future therapy.
But really. It isn’t a party until Jensen has dropped trow.
I may be looking into suspenders for him. Or staples.
And as long as the medicine cabinet is well stocked with Excedrin, I’ll continue to report on the antics of a small boy named Jensen. Because it’s way better to laugh, than say, lay on the floor with tears in my ears.