The Man

When I was little there was a man who would come around the neighborhood talking to himself. We called him "Shorty". Not sure why we called him this but when he came around we would laugh at him and often times do things to get him to chase us. Back then no one really used mental health terms to describe erratic behavior. We just referred to them as "crazy".
There is a man around town here who stands on corners doing the same things. He usually wears the same gray coat, has salt and pepper colored hair and many times I see him puffing on a cigarette. You can see people at the four-way intersection, staring out of their car windows at him. I'd love to hear what they are saying; I'd love to know his story too.
I'd never seen this man up close... until today!
We (the kids and Daddy) stopped at a fast-food place on the way home, which happened to be near one of the man's common speaking spots. As we walked in I noticed him sitting outside at one of the tables. But soon after we sat down to eat, he came in.
I always worry about our kids' reactions in situations like this.
He stopped at our table, said hello and asked if he could tell us something.
I wiped my mouth and gave him my attention. We all did.
He briefly shared something about faith and the devil. I finally was able to see "the man" up close. Black man with a scraggly beard, looked to be in his late 50s and missing a lot of teeth.
"That was nice," our little compassionate seven-year-old said, as he walked over to refill his cup at the drink dispensers. I was somewhat relieved.
We continued to eat. I nudged my husband and cut my eyes at our son. I couldn't believe he didn't have anything t say. But I could see the wheels turning in his little head.
Then the man was back.
"You can't give to everybody because you might be giving to the devil," he said. "God Bless ya'll ." He went away again. This time leaving the restaurant- still talking.
We were quiet for a moment then finally our son spoke.
"That man only had ONE tooth in his mouth. Just ONE tooth," he said showing us with his finger.
He was confused by this. And this was all he got from it.

Death and Resurrection

The kids have worried me so much about dying eggs for Easter.
"Patience!" I had told the five-year-old for two days. "You've got to learn some patience! "
I purposely took my time to get things ready. Just because our son sat around just staring at me. I just kept thinking of things to do so I could drive him crazy.
Didn't work- he drove me crazy first!
As I carefully placed the cooled, boiled eggs in a bowl, I hear someone sniffing. It was the seven-year-old crying. There was no telling what was wrong with her.
"What is it?" I asked rolling my eyes.
"Do you really have to make the chicks die?"
"What are you talkin' about?" I asked her.
"Well you said we have to die the eggs," she answered.
I just spent about ten seconds looking at her. She had to have been kidding.
As I began to prepare the kit and eggs for decorating, I realized there was something missing- or someone. Surely he didn't think I was going to go this alone. Besides... I'm not an arts and crafts person so I didn't want to do it.
"Daddy!" I yelled. "The kids want you to help them with these eggs!"
Reluctantly he came in and plopped in the chair- acting like my third child.
So there we were, the four of us having a cute little family time. But the two oldest ones (myself and Daddy) did not want to be there. I would have been happy just cracking a few and sprinkling some salt on 'em.
"Sooooo... are these eggs gonna come back to life again?" our darling little talkative daughter asked.
"What?" I said sternly.
"The eggs died so they are going to be resurrected again!" She said with a huge smile.
I just looked at Daddy- while we both yawned.
Where do they get this stuff?

What Would Jesus Do?

Our little five-year-old thinks on his feet.
While on the playground a little girl in his class complained to the teacher that he (my son) wouldn't play with her. So the teacher called him over to talk with him about it.
"What's going on?" she asked him. "Why don't you want to play with her?"
"I just don't want to play with her!" he answered.
"Well... what would you do if someone didn't want to play with you? How would you feel?" the teacher added.
Before he could answer she jumped back in- she knew what to say to get him thinking-
"Think about what Jesus would do."
She knew she had him then.
She could see him processing it. He nodded.
"Okay now go on and play- but think about what Jesus would do," she reminded him.
He started to run off to play again then the teacher asked-
"What are you gonna do?"
He turned around and quickly told her with a smile...
"I'm gonna tell her to go play with Jesus!"

Make Belive Friend My Butt!

Okay I'm thinking I should go wake my seven-year-old up and get her. Earlier today, I fussed her out about taking so long to get her homework done. She was playing around way too much and I was trying to multi-task so much so that I did not pay enough attention until the end. Anywho... after I fussed her out I went back to cooking dinner and heard her having a convenient conversation with her make believe friend, Wilbur.
"Wilbur don't say that about my mama!" she said sternly.
She then paused for a moment for "Wilbur" to respond.
"Oh no you didn't call my mom- I'm not gonna let you say that about her!"
I didn't say a word. I went on about my business and didn't even let on that I heard this conversation.
But I thought about it more and I told Dude about it and he laughed a little too hard. So much so that I really want to get her.
Make believe friend my butt!

What People Are Made Of... A Five-Year-Old's Perspective"

You gotta listen in on kids' conversations. I'm on the computer and I overhear our two talking. Myles casually tells his sister, "Brown people are made out of mud and white people are made out of snow."
Of course she corrected him and explained that, "Everyone- even white people are made out of mud, bubble brain!"
I did tell her she could not call her brother a bubble brain.
The things they come up with.

Mama Is Busted!

My son's kindergarten teacher smiled as she told me about circle/reading time in their class.
"I'm reading this story and I come up on the word 'gossip', she begins. "So I asked the class if anyone knew what it meant."
At this point I smile with her, thinking they are all a bunch of five-year-olds, who will come up with a crazy definition for the word- plus she is smiling too.
She continues on. "Well, Myles (a definite mama's boy) raises his hand and says he knows what it means."
At this point she rubs my shoulder ever so gently.
My little man rats me out. He tells the teachers and class, "Yes my mama do that."
The teacher laughs and says, "We asked him if you talk about us."
I try to think quickly without showing it. I didn't remember talking about them- at least not in his little presence. I mean we know he and his sister are nosey, and we can't spell things out- either our little seven-year-old precocious child will get it or Dude will spell the wrong word (earlier post).
He told them that, "She gossips about Daddy."
My smile turned upside down. I was busted.

Smoking Isn't Cool

There is a commercial- I guess it could be considered a PSA about the results of smoking. There is a woman talking, using one of the devices covering her throat. It makes her sound a little robotic or something. Well... my two little ones saw the commercial.
They had been around the house holding their throats talking- mimicking her and I didn't realize it at the time, so I never said anything. I just thought they were being their little entertaining selves as usual. Maurissa is an aspiring actress.
The commercial came on tonight and we were all in the room together.
"Mama. Watch this lady- it is so cool!" one screamed.
"My name is Maurissa and this is my brother Myles," she said, trying to copy the lady's voice.
"No! No! No!" I told them. "That's not cool."
They were dumbfounded.
"It's not?"
"No. That lady has to talk like that because she smoked. That is the point of the commercial- to get people not to smoke!"
They sat for a moment then went upstairs... still holding their throats, talking but trying to do it softly. It had not impact on them whatsoever. Those two little ones got the wrong message.