Children…why?

My kids are weird. I’m not very comfortable around other people’s kids so I don’t know if their weirdness is normal for kids or if they’re just weird. If you don’t have kids, consider this a warning. If you do, let me know if mine are actually weird or if I’m just overly concerned.

Let’s start with the jokes. This one is fairly straightforward. A child’s sense of humor is developed only to the point that they understand the world. Of course, this is true of the young as well as the old. It’s just that our understanding is a bit more developed and therefore kid jokes seem bizarre. But enough of my amateur psycho-analytical theorization, on to the jokes. They learned the interrupting cow joke at school. I’m sure you’re familiar with it.

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“The interrupting cow.”

“The interrupting co…”

“MOOOOOO.”

Kind of funny. A little weird, but everyone’s heard it so the novelty is gone and it’s seen as run of the mill malarkey. With my kids it’s a little different.
My five year old daughter (name omitted to protect the weird): “Knock, knock.”

Me: “Who’s there?”

6 year old weirdo: “The interrupting cow chicken”

Me (in a voice tinged with trepidation): “The interrupting cow chicken who?”

Distracted 6 year old weirdo, forgetting that the punchline to this particular joke is that you’re supposed to interrupt the humor recipient: “bizarre loud piercing noise that I can’t type because there aren’t any letters in the English language ( or any other language I’m familiar with) that make those sounds.”

Or how about this one from my seven year old daughter? “Why did the spider cross the road?”

Her: “To get to Web City.”

Maybe not so weird. Actually a little creative and encouraging until she tells me the one about dog that crossed the road to eat its poop.

There are others, however I now find myself at a loss to remember them. My son who’s four has told some doozies but they’re so unintelligible that my brain won’t hold on to them. He’s more of a practical weirdo anyway. He once ran into the living room with his left nipple pinched between his left thumb and forefinger screaming “Get it off me, I don’t want it, cut my nipple off I don’t want it on me.” He was in tears and looked horrified. I had to scream at him to get through to him. If you’ve never stood in your living room screaming at your four year old that you absolutely will not cut off his nipple then you probably don’t understand the feeling. By way of explanation, I offer this; It feels weird. When I finally was able to get his attention and he understood that I refused to comply he screamed “Why not?” through the curtain of snot threatening to fill the dimple of his chin.

“Because it will hurt.” I screamed this too because it felt like it needed to be screamed. He said “Oh.” And went to play in his room. I don’t know if his acceptance of my logic is comforting or if his abrupt turnaround indicates deep psychosis, but I’m really not qualified to speculate. If you’re an expert, feel free to weigh in.

Another time he grabbed the phone jack, that wasn’t in use and wasn’t secured to anything other than the phone line that came up through a hole in the floor, and took off across the living room with it. From the kitchen I heard the sound of little feet smacking floor and knew that my feet needed to start smacking floor too. He was halfway to my bedroom before he saw me coming. His toddler turbo kicked in and he beat me. He slammed the door in my face and I could hear him trying to lock it. Thankfully his little body wasn’t used to such huge doses of adrenaline and he couldn’t get the little nubbin to turn. I opened the door and grabbed him around the waist. He began to do this very animated hot foot dance, the hand holding the phone jack flailing wildly. Up to this point I thought the whole incident was nothing but short stack shenanigans, but as I was closing in on pinning his arms a little gem of weirdosity plopped out of his mouth. He whipped his arm more wildly than ever and said “Ah, ah, ah! I say AH! Tuh you!” That last AH! Had such an emphasis on it that I almost stopped and he pronounced you in some weird way that can’t be imitated in print. If we ever meet, be sure to ask about it. I finally got his arms to his sides and relaxed enough that I began to laugh involuntarily. This only encouraged him. We thrashed about to the point that instead of having a phone cord strung at about toddler waist height across half the house I was now tied to a hyperactive kid in a weird gyrating pile on the floor. And of course, once we became disentangled, he waited until I had the cord completely poked back down its hole before he tried it again.

One more about the boy, if you’re still interested. He was younger during this display of disconcerting abnormality. Perhaps three or so. I was divorced and newly dating at the time so I was alone in my bed. I woke up suddenly and rolled over the see my 6 year old daughter, who was barely 4 then, silently staring at me. She continued to stare for a few moments so I timidly, fearfully, said “Good morning.” It would seem that this activated her somehow because her face contorted into a look of consternation and she screamed “The boy (once again, name omitted to protect the weird) threw your phone in the toilet!” I couldn’t afford another phone, so as I hoped it wasn’t true I sprang from the bed and sprinted to the living room where I see in my periphery, the boy. When he sees me he begins hopping from foot to foot and sings “I break a phone! I break a phone!” In my own consternation I say “I break a face!” This has no effect on him other than that he dances his way to the bathroom behind me singing happily “I break a phone! I break a face! I break a phone! I break a face!” I riced the phone and thankfully didn’t have to buy a new one. And I thought it was all over with that. But a few months later at a Halloween party that offered pony rides it flared up again. I sat behind the boy in the saddle. His first words ahorseback were “Daddy look, I ridey horse!” I respond with “I know, I’m riding a horse with you.” He then turns to look at me, his head swiveling on his neck a la creepy girl from The Exorcist. His mouth is a horrifying combination of excitement and evil. His eyes glint as his head spins back to its humanly possible position and he slaps the horse on the neck screaming “I break a horse!”

I think that’s all I can stand to remember for now but there is much, much more to come. My girls are just as weird, maybe more so. So stay logged in and once again I bid you adieu…and a don’t.

Adieu…appreciate your children before they chew your throat out in your sleep for no other reason than that in their new little minds they think it is wise to dispatch those upon whom they depend to live.

A don’t…let them know you’re scared. It only encourages them.

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Author: macbick

I am a writer who takes joy in presenting ideas that I find funny or strange. In addition to blogging I write children's books that, I hope, will bring families together for a few minutes while inspiring laughter, questions, conversations and introducing a few new words. Visit my Facebook page @williamennisauthor for more on my philosophy and to preview my book. Only one is out so far. Many more to come soon.

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