My friend and I were on the phone the other day and she informed me that an inside joke that everyone shares in her family is something she witnessed in my home a few years ago.
She comes over to discuss our soap business and here my youngest boy (the eraser-eater) is stil eating his lunch and it has been about an hour since lunch started. His favorite thing to do back then (and is still a temptation now) is to throw himself on the floor and whine or at least whine while making himself go limp wherever he happens to be. So he pulls this malarkey. She looks at me wide-eyed (this look that she and I give each other when we are giving the situation a little more time before we start covering our mouths to muffle our laughter) and then turns and positions herself face to face with him. She is so good with kids, I tell you. She sees that he (obviously) does not want to eat and she says to him, "Now, L--m, this is good food. Do you think you could take a few more bites?"
He looks at her despondently and says, "But I am so tired! I am tired of eating and I have lifted my fork thousands and thousands of times!" (whimper, whimper, whine)
So whenever she, her husband, or any of her kids are tired of something, they complain and wail, "but I have done this or that thousands and thousands of times!"
The man of the house, when he heard about our child's level of laziness, was mortified. When I was first married to the man we used to laugh at the passages of the lazy fool in Proverbs who can not lift his food to his mouth or who does not want to go out (to work) because there is "a lion outside". You can imagine. This is not an inside joke in my home. I am glad others recieve joy from it though.
When my oldest (the ten year old) was little he used to do crazy things. I remember one time when the man of the house was working nights I would go and check on the little boy before I went to bed. I remember this one time he demolished his room. It was just awful. What made it especially interesting was that he was sleeping smack in the middle of it. I turned on the light and took a picture.
Another picture worthy is when Eraser-Eater was little (the youngest one who has lifted his fork thousands and thousands of times) he had this great walker. My oldest loved it. He thought it was so cool. I think maybe because it used to be his. Anyway, I heard him hollering and crying from the other side of the house and I ran to him wondering what the heck could be wrong. I thought maybe he broke a limb or something. Nope. He was stuck in the walker trying desperately to get out---his legs were too fat, the walker started to collapse, and he was panicking. I went and I got the camera, of course, and took a picture.
Those pictures are still in the photo album and everytime (it never fails) my Dear Sir sees it, he shakes his head and says, "Turn the page."