Prepared

The other day, I took Cameron to the orthodontist -- again.  I think this year is pretty much going to be spent driving to and from school and driving to and from the orthodontist.  That, and paying the bills.  *sigh*

Anyhoo, there is a free coffee machine at the orthodontist.  Not just coffee, but a small version of the hospital coffee machine where you can select "mochaccino" and press start.  Except that hospital machines drop the cup down and fill it.  This little version has you put the cup down and it fills it.  As I did, I thought, "Hmmm, it isn't very clear where you should put the cup . . ." and then the assistant called, "Cameron," and I turned for a moment just as the scalding hot coffee came shooting out of the machine and all over my hand.  (Hazardous!  I mean, shouldn't there be a label or something? 'Warning:  Coffee is Hot?')  So Cameron went back for his appointment and by the time I had mopped up the coffee I'd spilled all over and run my hand under cool water he was nearly done. 

As we left I said, "Oh, Cameron, I really burned my hand!  It really hurts!"

And Cameron pulled out a first aid kit and said, "Would you like some burn ointment for it?"

Yes.  Yes, I would, and if mothering involved merit badges you would have just earned one.

Relations

A few days ago, Matthew asked if Uncle Zack had a mom.  "Yes," I answered a bit incredulously.  "Uncle Zack is my brother!  He has the same mom as me!" 

"Who's your mom?" Matthew responded.

"Grandma Linda!  Grandma Linda is my mom and Uncle Zack's mom and Aunt Stephanie's mom!"

"Oh.  Who was Uncle Zack's mom when he was little?"
"Grandma  Linda!  Who do you think your mom will be when you're a grown up?" I asked, thinking that this would finally get through and Matthew would realize, oh, OF COURSE, but . . .

Matthew looked at me completely seriously and said, "I have no idea."

No one or two

Cameron and Matthew's new school is really diverse which is really, really super awesome.  But also leads to discussions like this:

Me:  Matthew, who did you play with today?
Matthew:  Me here.
Me:  ???  Uh, who did you play with?
Matthew:  I SAID, me and Me Here played!  We played tag!
Me:  Your friend is named Me Here?
Matthew:  Yeah.  But Guy Three kept trying to play with us.
Me:  His name is Guy Three?
Matthew:  Nooooo!  Don't be ridiculous!  Guy Three is a GIRL!  And Guy Three always wants to play with me.  I'm like, "Geeezzz, Guy Three!  I just want to play with Me Here right now!"

Barbra Streisand

Last week, Matthew was attempting to tell me something by silently mouthing it.  Only, he does this just by moving his mouth randomly while looking at you intently.  Then, with no hope of success, I try to interpret.

For some reason, this time, I widened my eyes and said, "What?  What's that you're saying, Matthew?  You're in LOVE with BARBRA STREISAND??!?"

Why Barbra Streisand?  I have no idea.  Matthew doesn't even know who she is, it just struck me as funny.  And, it turns out, Matthew thought it was funny, too. 

Now, all you have to do is say, "Barbra Streisand," and we're both hysterical.  It's our own little inside joke (except now you are in on it). 

When we met Matthew's teacher, she asked him what his brother's name was.  He stared at the floor silently instead of answering so I prompted, "Matthew?  What's your brother's name?  Do you want me to tell your teacher?"  He nodded and I looked seriously at the teacher and said, "His brother's name is Barbra Streisand."  And then Matthew and I cracked up and the teacher looked . . . concerned.

Another day, I said to the boys, "Who's the best mom in the world?"

And without missing a beat, they both chorused, "Barbra Streisand!"

And then yesterday, Matthew said to me, "Knock, knock."

Of course, I responsded, "Who's there?"

And Matthew, brilliantly, answered, "Barbra Streisand."

Hilarious.

Not identical

This past Tuesday, I took Matthew to his new school for his "meet-the-teacher."

Then, on Wednesday, I took Cameron for his "meet-the-teacher."  As we entered the school, a staff member said to Cameron, "Hi there, Matthew!  Oh, wait!  You're not Matthew, you're Cameron!"

"It's okay," I said, "I call them by the wrong name all the time."

At which point a father standing nearby said, "Oh, are they twins?" 

The staff member, who has met both Cameron and Matthew, looked slighly uncomfortable until I laughed and replied, "No, they aren't twins.  Actually, they don't look anything alike!"

I am enjoying imagining the first time that this dad sees me with both of the boys.