End of the Innocence

Tonight, I took The Boy to baseball practice. While I was unloading all of the team uniforms (I'm the team mom, God help me) and his equipment bag from the back of my car, The Boy stood patiently and soon took notice of a very tan, blonde, very pretty lady jogger trotting toward us, wearing a sports bra, little running shorts, and earbuds attached to her iPod.

The Boy silently watched her approach and then run by us. When she had passed us and turned a corner, he bent slightly at the waist and began yelling at the crotch of his pants, scolding "Bad penis! BAD PENIS!"

They should really start selling alcohol at the ballpark concession.

Break in the action

This morning, as The Boy was preparing to go outside to catch the bus, he stopped in his tracks at the door, ran back to me as fast as he could, and hugged me for a long, long time.

What?

He's not a smartass ALL the time, you know.

Meet the manager

(overheard in the car yesterday)

The Boy: I am going to be a house builder when I grow up.

Sister: Will you build me a house?

The Boy (with a devious smile on his face): Everyone in the family gets a free house except YOU!

Sister: What? Everyone except me? What kind of company is that? Who's your manager?

The Boy: My BUTT's my manager. Wanna meet him?

Bar score

(running back to our table at Winston's Pub tonight after touring the bar and checking out all the games and pool tables, breathless and excited, adorable with eyes sparkling, holding a Mickey Mouse pedometer)

Look what some DRUNK guy gave me!