If You Give a Rae-Rae a Limo...

Rae-Rae was all excited when he got up Friday morning. For doing so well on his school fundraiser, he earned a trip to Dairy Queen…during school hours…in a limousine! He got up and got dressed, and even brushed his hair!

This treat is all he’d talked about for the past week, so I knew he’d get up easy that morning.

“Hey, Mom, I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and got my socks and shoes on. I even brushed my hair.”

He’s baiting me, I can feel it. 

“Rae-Rae, is it your day to scrub the toilets at school?”

“No! It’s ice cream in a limo day! Check it out…I even got matching socks.”

Hear that sonic boom? That was my mind being blown.

On  the way to school, the subject rather abruptly changed from Christmas lights to snakes. The boys are fascinated by snakes, so this ain’t unusual.

“Momma, what’s that snake that’s different colors that’ll kill ya?”

“It’s a coral snake, you idiot. Red touching black is a friend of jack; red and yellow will kill a fellow.”

Bubby! Quit calling your brother an idiot.

Some people’s brains resemble hamsters running on a hamster wheel. Rae-Rae’s, much like mine, is more like a roadrunner.

On PCP.

In a food processor.

“Hey, that’s like the Georgia-Georgia Tech game!”

“Rae-Rae, you lost me on that one, bud. What are you talkin’ about?”

“Red touching is a friend of jack. It’s like two Georgia fans hanging out. Red touching yellow will kill a fellow. That’s like when Georgia and Georgia Tech play. When red touches yellow, some dork’s gonna DIE!”

My children are just warped. Emma’s sitting here, as I speak, gluing stacks of paper together for the 218^th day in a row. (She’s at home because she had a bad case of the morning pukey’s.) She puts two quarter-sized puddles of glue on a sticky note, and says “Mommy, do you like my glue boobs? Aren’t they most beautiful?”

Why yes, little princess, they’re the most glorious glue boobs you’ve made since yesterday.

But back to this morning…we’re rolling down the road, and there are some wicked looking clouds overhead. We always play the ‘What is that Cloud?’ game, so we jumped right in. Short of using the phrase bulbous-purple-rhinoceros-'rhoids, which I try to avoid at all costs, I can’t think of how to describe them.

But never fear...Bubby chimes in with a most eloquent description.

“It’s like the grape guy from the underwear commercials got hit by a truck and then started smoking.”

“Wow, Bubby, that’s a good one. I never would’ve thought to put a cigarette in the hands of posthumous produce.”

Rae-Rae looks at me with that smile that makes me wanna curl up in the fetal position, and says “So, you’re saying he’s a better subscriber than you are?”

Yes, he gets magazines out of the mailbox with the greatest of ease, while I stand there like Arnie Grape, cutting the heads off of grasshoppers. “I killed ‘em, Gilbert! I killed ‘em!”

“He may be a better subscriber than me, but I’m the greatest vocabulizer in all the land.”

But my kids didn’t have a snowball’s chance in St. Maarten of turning out vanilla. White, most assuredly or else this Lucy would have some ‘splainin to do, but not vanilla in the list.

The hubbster and I were sitting here the other night, and a show came on talking about a swimmer that was eaten by a shark. I chuckled and said “If it was that Michael Buble swimming, he wouldn’t have got eat up.”

“Michael  Buble?” *He chuckles at me before diving into the conversation like Greg Liberace.*

“No, it was Michael J. Fox.”  *starts shaking his head around like a bobble head*

“No, it was George Michael! Wake me up…and call the po-po…”

“ Hey, joo dummy, it was George Harrison.”

“HARRISON FORD!”

“Gerald Ford….oh, oh, oh….Gerard Butler! This is Sparta!”

“Who’s that Spartan in my teepee? It’s me! It’s me!”

“You have the voice of an angel. Your voice is like a combination of Fergie and Jesus.”

“I bet that woman’s leg was Fergilicious.”

“Yeah…I can’t believe he ate the whole thing.”

And then we sat there for a good 30 minutes in silence...between each other at least. My kids ain't been silent for 30 minutes since we put the boys on horseback for the first time last weekend. (That's a whole other story.)

But Rae-Rae's limo ride went really well. He and 13 kids he didn't know got to ride to the Dairy Queen in a stretched Excursion...that had been t-boned at least three times from the look of it. The kids didn't care, so who am I to complain? According to my son, it had *ahem* "a butt load of seats, a light that changed colors, and a glass of champagne. But don't worry mom, we were too full of ice cream to drink it."

Phew...that was a close one. I'll put it this way...I let him take my phone with him to take some pictures, and this is what I got back.

I think I may have a closet Catholic in my bunch. We'd better find us another church...quick.

And that, my friends, is what life is like in my little corner of heaven..and I wouldn't have it any other way.