My son has always had a very interesting world view. For a long time, I would be so tickled by our little conversations that I didn’t think I could possibly forget the things he said but by the time he was four or so, I realized I needed to write that shit down. I don’t know how many hundreds of times the writing has slipped my mind, which bums me out in a big way. But I told him years ago that one day, I’d give them back to him. I don’t have nearly the collection I wanted to have by now, but I keep plugging along. This seemed like as good a place as any to keep them all together. If this is the sort of thing that amuses you, please enjoy. If it’s not, I completely understand.

I’m writing them down for the same reason I’ve always written them.

So that Alex will always know who he’s always been.

In No Particular Order:

Then, a tiny voice-

Mom? Did you know vegetarians could kill you SO easily?

Okay. I’m awake. Just so you know, vegetarians,

I’m ready for you.

So, the school called at noon. Alex had a possible, very minor, head injury, could I pick him up and keep him under observation?

When I pick him up, I ask what happened-

So, buddy, what’d you do?

Well mom, I was standing like this…
And I jumped up like this…
And I’m not a very high jumper, so I landed on my head like this..

“Ummm…Alex, when I jump up I rarely land upside down…what am I missing?”

Well, I was doing a back flip. I can do it fine on the trampoline.

So, anyway, now I can’t blame the head injury if he doesn’t become a physicist.

He’s five.

He is obsessed with garage sales. He has one set up every Saturday morning, before I wake up. I think it’s because he’s never had a garage before. Also, we’re pretty broke and he’s incredibly sweet.

Me: “Morning, son! What are we selling today?”

Mom, hi! I had the best idea today! I didn’t want to drag everything out into the driveway this morning, so I just got the paper money out of your wallet. I figure we can sell our money. For less money. Everyone will want some!

So, math’s out, too.


“Hey, Alaina, quick! Is that our turn?”


“Okay. Good.”

“Mom? I don’t actually have any idea, I was just agreeing with you.”

“Well, geez, don’t pick NOW to start. We’ll end up in Egypt or somewhere just because you said yes!”

“Ooh, that’d be fun!”

From the back seat, enter Alex.

“In Egypt, I’d be naked.”

Thus ends the Egypt conversation.

Mother-Son dinner date conversation:

“What do you want to eat? Grilled cheese from Tommy’s?”


“Since Lainie’s not here, we can go.”

Alaina will only go to Tommy’s with Dad, and she’ll only go to City Diner with me.

“Yeah, you know, mom, Alaina’s the age of Eleven. That’s when children begin to get sassy. At eleven, kids are sassy. Then, as they grow into adults, they either then, become horrible, or wonderful.”

Huh. The age of eleven.

Who knew?

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.