Slingshot Undies.

Thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the Slice of Life linkup!  I've never participated in this kind of linkup before, and it's been great to write more than the usual Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram blurb.

I have three boys: Z (5), E (4), and L (1).  They, along with their father, are my LIFE and I don't have the foggiest idea how someone could love anybody more than I love them.

 

Personalities, in a nutshell:

Z: stereotypical oldest child, takes himself very seriously, feelings hurt easily, like to help adults and younger brothers, follows instructions right away but often takes a long time completing the task in order to indicate his displeasure

E: stereotypical middle child, takes NOTHING seriously (see Spiderman above), gets angry easily, doesn't seem to understand that rules exist, usually ignores instructions until at least the fourth repetition and then requires step-by-step directions

L: happy about everything, cuddly, loves watching older brothers, only gets upset when hungry/tired

Now that you "know" the boys, to the rubber band...

During a recent trip to Target, E picked up a rubber band off the floor and decided it was the best toy in the whole store.  When we got home, he stretched it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs and played a song on it like a guitar, which was great fun for about three minutes, but then couldn't get it off the chair when he got bored.  With my help, he eventually got it loose, but it ended up breaking.  Obviously, it was now useless and deserved only to be discarded and trampled underfoot.

At this point Z picked it up and streeeeeeeeeeetched it as far as his almost-six-year-old arms would reach.  Brief conversation ensued:

Me: Wow, that rubber band stretches really far, doesn't it?!
Z: Yeah, but not as far as underpants.

Let's think about this for just a minute...

Okay.

Now, I don't know how he became aware of exactly how stretchy underpants are, but I can guess and so can you.

The teacher in me thought, What a great moment!  He's contrasting!
The parent in me thought, Great.  This means his little brother is mildly traumatized and I'm going to have to make a new house rule and possibly pay for therapy.
The Christian in me thought, It looks like we need to talk about kindness.  Maybe I need to check Proverbs on this one, though I don't think it talks specifically about underpants.

The actual, authentic, real me said OUT LOUD, "I bet it was fun finding that out."

His response?

"It sure was, Mom, but I think only for me."

No kidding, son.  No kidding.