Every Friday a friend of mine and me take turns watching each others kids for a couple hours. Just to give us two hours to do whatever we want without kids. Sometimes that means running errands that would usually take us two hours now take us 30 minutes. This is simply because we don't have to fumble with car seats when we are getting in or out of the car or dealing with tantrums in the aisles or having to stop to wipe noses. Sometimes we just go to a quiet place and get 30 minutes worth of work actually done in 30 minutes. Anyway, her husband is also a firefighter and we like to commiserate together about the joys of being a firefighters wife.
So yesterday I was watching her children (whom I really enjoy.) She has a three-year-old who is literally the size of a five-year-old, Tanner. He is exactly what I imagine my husband looked like when he was that age. She also has a very easy going six month old.
George had been DYING for someone to play the WII with him and he had found the perfect competitor. George and Tanner played for and hour and a half. They were both red cheeked with sweat dripping down the sides of their little faces. Do you know how hard a five and three year old have to work to get sweaty!? These two were playing their tiny hearts out.
I went to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher as George was being a not so gracious winner. That's when I heard Tanner, "George stop.... stop... (I could actually hear the tiny wheels in his head turning) stop busting my balls!"
"What?" George replied in genuine confusion, "what balls?"
"I don't know." Tanner replied in defeated desperation.
"What are you talking about?" George tried to understand.
"I don't know what I am talking about!" Tanner replied.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen I was trying to stifle my laughter like a child in church. Later, when I told the story to my husband he said, "Well, I know where Tanner got that saying," and I was nodding in agreement until he went on, "his mother."
No comments:
Post a Comment