Overheard

I've been taking lots of deep breaths this week. And yelling. Maybe the deep breaths aren't working so well. We've been hearing a lot of  "No" and "Why?" and whining and hyperventilating from our most talkative and defiant kid. Much of the week has been a blur. But I have heard some funny things, like ...

We need to park at the sign. My legs can't work, Danny says. I just laughed and laughed. Danny has noticed the handicapped signs in front of parking spaces. Naturally, he wants to know why we can't park there. I tell him those spaces are for people whose legs don't work.

Get a wheelchair, Nana, Danny says when Nana tells him her legs are tired as she tries to keep up with him. Or maybe he was just pointing out the wheelchair on the handicapped sign. Who knows?

Get a clue, Danny often tells me whenever we're looking for something. I'm sure we'll hear this a lot when he's a teenager.

It squirts out like a bum bum, Danny says of his play dough extruder. There's at least one other person in this house who would think this is just the most hilarious thing. (Hint: It's not me.)


I need an audioman for a tray, Danny says. Oh, you mean, ottoman? Got it. He uses the ottoman as a tray for his drink.

OH MY GOD, where's the Benadryl? Seriously, I can't find it. I think we're out and when I uttered this it had been one those days, I mean, weeks. Oh, hell, I mean, months. (In my defense, the kids are all crunked up this week.)

Let's pray for food. Thank you for food. God is great. Thank you for food, Danny says. I just love hearing him pray. There may be hope for that boy yet.

We're going to the mountains this weekend. It's our first vacation with children. Do pray that God will be great. Or just that my children sleep.