Because Hubs Said I Would....

My husband informed me that I would share this with all my blogging friends.

I said I would not.

And now I am.

Once again, he is correct.

     (And now he is framing this post.)

Sunday we went to church.  We haven't been there in forever because the boys have been sick and I refuse to leave the house if my husband has to plow.  I figure if he has to plow, we need to stay home.

Anyhow.

We have junior church duty.  We had all boys aged 7 to 5.  When I asked them what they could ask God to help them with, something they were having a tough time with, one little boys squeaked out, "I fart a lot.  Like, a whole lot.  I think God needs to help me not fart so much."

The boys agreed solemnly in unison.

It was a struggle they all had.

My supportive husband left the area laughing, I had to agree this was definitely something to ask prayer for.

We will be discussing this further next week.

Ya'll may need to pray for me on that one.

Apparently it was a great church service to miss because the congregation was feeling all convicted.  Husband felt we should get the cd from the service but ignorance seemed the perfect bliss to me.  I was okay to not feel convicted on my sunny Sunday.

I think we'll get the cd on Wednesday.

Apparently my husband is correct AGAIN and it's always good to grow.

     (He is for sure to frame this post now.  Two times I say he is right!)

I told you all that to tell you this....

Some of you may be shocked to know that at times....my boys can embarrass me.

And Sunday was one of those days.

Jake and I left the church to head for the suburban and round up some boys - any that wanted to go home with us, basically - and S4 seen us and began to wail.

Loudly.

And hold himself.

From clear across the parking lot, he began to yell in pain.

"I have to go number one and I can't hooooooooooold it!"

So what does my husband say?

"Here!  Just lean against the tire and pee here."

I, mortified, got in the suburban and sat down.

My now happy son climbed cheerfully into the vehicle.

My practical husband said, "Oh, you know you'll blog about this."

"Oh no", I said, "I don't think they need to know what redneck hillbillies we are.  Or rather, YOU are."

"You married me," Jake grinned.

This whole blog post makes me feel the need to shop for shoes.  High heeled girly ones.  

(And...all the labels were already in my list of blog post labels...pee, church, fart and embarrassing. Sigh. Welcome to my life.)

A Basketball Story

The Basketball Story by S4

I was at preschool and I made a hoop in a big hoop.  And then everybody runned up to me and wanted me to make another hoop in the other hoop. But I didn't make any.

School this year...

I made another hoop in kindergarten.  And I was really e-s-sited.  And then nobody wanted me to make a hoop for them.  All of this was at gym class.

I like pretty much nothing at school but gym and recess.

Moma's Note:


S4 has been having a hard time adjusting to school this year.  This all day every day thing is getting a very  tiring for him.  When you think he has had Moma to himself for three years now it makes sense he would be struggling to adjust.


He has a great teacher who seems to think a lot of our little guy.  It's odd to have a teacher who hasn't been introduced to our boys before.  We are sorta rememberable.


Oh as S4 would say, "You can't first-a-get us."


When S4 gets out of school, he does NOT quit talking.  At.  All.  I know who got in trouble and who didn't and who said what and what page he did and if Mrs. J was happy or if she had to be a mean teacher face to someone.  


I sometimes wonder what he tells everyone at school about US since he seems so willing to spill his guts on all the school goings on.


And he still the comedian he always has been.


When he got out of school Friday last week we weren't pulled out of the parking lot when he declared loudly, "I kept allllll my farts in me today! I would feel one coming and I would just squeeze it back in. Not one fart all day. It was NOT relaxing."


Yup, school sure is hard on the boy.