Mr Busy = Funniest Boy on Earth

There is a child in my house who does some very strange things.  The said child also loves to bake biscuits (cookies).  Today was end-of-term class party day, a couple of days early, and so last night was baking night.  He was quite intent on ensuring that the girls in his class would have their favourite bikkies, made by his very own hand.  He's so sweet!

But tonight, when I went looking for butter, the picture above is what I found.  On Sunday afternoon there were four 250g blocks of butter.  Now there are three half blocks.  I shook my head, more than a little bemused, and called out for Mr Busy to come and have a chat with me about this.  It began with first, middle and last name.

Mr Busy:  What have I done now?
Me:  Come and look at this? (to which I slowly pointed to each. half. block)
Mr Busy: Uhhhh … yeeeaaahhhh.
Me:  What is this?  Why are there three half blocks?  What did you do? Need 125g, cut half and put half away.  Next time you need butter, grab a whole block, cut in half, put half away.  How many times did you do this?  What were you thinking?  This is what scales are for!!  You get out the bits of butter and weigh some bits until you get to the weight you need, so that you don't use Every. Single. Block.  (with tone of voice escalating as to the absurdity of the whole scene)
There may or may not have been girly slapping at a big strapping young lad at this point.
Mr Busy: (laughing) OK, Mum.  I get it.  I'm sorry…..as he wandered off to his room again.

And then we were both laughing.  Him louder than me.  Because I still have three half blocks of butter.

And then Miss Sunshine died of laughter....

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Dh and I have been talking, quite a bit, about what we want to do while we're in Malaysia, because seeing the cup manufacturer won't take too much time.  We know quite a few people who were once students here in Melbourne and attended our church whilst they were here so there will be a bit of catching up over yummy meals, I'm sure.  But they all seem to suggest shopping.  Dh assures me I will be dumbfounded at the cheap prices.

But shopping?

Last night we had Miss Sunshine in the car with us and Dh was saying he didn't plan to pack much because he would just buy stuff there.  To which I responded:  "I am not going to spend our three free days shopping because you can't be bothered packing.  Just stab me in the eye right now because it would be less torturous".

And Miss Sunshine just rolled around the back seat laughing til her sides hurt.  For a long time.  "Stab me in the eye..... ha ha ha".  I didn't think it was that funny, but it certainly tickled her.

I don't get it.  We've been married nearly 25 years and were together 5 before that.  You'd think after 30 years your husband would know that shopping is not your thing.  My kids have it figured out.  Miss Sunshine can time it to the minute - I have a two-hour limit and then I keel over with brain fog and exhaustion.  Last Saturday when we had to go and buy Mr Busy's birthday present we were gone for so long Miss Sunshine sent us a text:  "You've been gone a long time, is Mum still alive?"

I reckon we can get any and all shopping required or desired out of the way on the evening of the day we arrive.  We land around 4pm.  It could all be overwith before we go to bed that night.

Under the Carpet....or Sheet

Recently we enjoyed the lovely surprise of a family member driving from Queensland to Melbourne (a very long way!!) to have some time with extended family.  One thing Dh's family does well is rally to get together at the last minute.  I was the lucky one to get the call:

Dh:  How do you feel if I tell Dad we can have dinner at our place on Wednesday night.
Me:  Um, errr, wha..., hah, wh..., how.... I need some time to process before I can answer.
Dh:  Do we have something else on?
Me:  Ummm, assignments.  You're asking me to stop working and clean the house and organise dinner.  I can't do it all....because, assignments.
Dh:  I was just gonna.....

And here the plot needed some sorting out and everyone ended up contributing to what ended up being a beautiful meal.  Miss Sunshine made dessert and I made my popular Asian Salad.  I would have loved to have done it all....but ... assignments!

In the midst of the kids being assigned jobs (remember my GREAT blessing list - still works a treat!) I discovered something very, very funny.  Rather than actually tidy things up and put them away (a very strange concept, apparently, I discovered this:

This chair houses a chopping board a kid made, the sandwich toaster, calendar and an assortment of other odds and ends I never know where to put.  Whoever decided on this solution clearly couldn't figure out where to put things either.  However, with the arrival of a horde of people being imminent it was time to figure it out.  And we did. 

The chair has since reclaimed its previous partners in crime.  But for a day or two it was clear.

And people sat on it. 

It was a beautiful sight.

Got any funny creative stories to solving your little hot spots?

These Are the Rules of the World

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In the last week I have found myself saying "but these are the rules" quite often, so I thought I'd share the rules of the world, as I know them to be.

Rule #1: the rules of the world are that Australia has to win the Commonwealth Games.  Russia, China and the USA duke it out for the Olympics.  There's just so many people in those countries and apparently so many athletes to choose from, so we don't get much of a look-in.  But the Commonwealth Games are ours.  And it started off that way this time, but then England decided to go ahead and do its own thing.  I don't know England...what did you think you were doing there?  I don't even know why we have to have this conversation!  The Games weren't even in England, you know, because home-ground advantage seems to be the only thing that might be a reason for breaking the rules.  Clearly you forgot yourselves this time.  It's OK though, the Games are coming to the Gold Coast next time so I hope you realise that home-ground advantage and 'the rules' mean we're back on top.

Rule #2: the rules of the world are that children are the ones who make cups of tea for the adults in the house.  When I say 'children' you know I mean kids who are old enough to mess with boiling water and teabags and milk and balance two cups at once without spilling it on themselves and causing a third degree burn, right?  Well, Miss Sunshine seems to have misinterpreted the rules as well.  It seems to be the week. She asked Mr Busy to make her a cup of tea the other day.  I told her that's not the rules...kids make adults cups of tea, kids don't make kids cups of tea.  Other kids can't request a cup of tea and have another kid make it.  That's just not how it works.  Quick as a wink she pipes up "I am an adult".

Apparently this rule needs some careful clarification.

Miss Sunshine is not a 'grown-up' adult.  She's still a teenager.  She's still at school.  She still needs to get told to do her dishes jobs.  Clearly she is not a grown-up!  So I have explained to her that the people in the house who are the same generation are not cup-of-tea-slaves for one another.  Only the grown-up generation can request a cup of tea from the younger generation of the household and expect to have it made for them.  That is why we have children are all.  So we can rest our weary bones at the end of the day and have our children give us some cup-of-tea love.  Miss Sunshine hasn't wrestled the will of a child throughout her day so she has to make her own.

There you go people.  Those are the rules.



#IBOT

Mr Busy Thinks in Funny - Quotes from the Road

Shepparton - the Hot Wheels Cow

Mr Busy has a reputation, in our house, for thinking in funny.  Over the last three days of being on a little tour of central Victoria he has again given us reason to laugh.

Shepparton (our first night) is known for its cow statues.  All. Over. Town.  If you google 'shepparton cows' and click on images you'll see the vast variety they have dotted here, there and everywhere.  We found the cow pictured above outside the bistro where we ate dinner.  The lady at the motel had tried to describe it.  When Mr Busy saw it he immediately dubbed it 'the hot wheels cow'.  What can I say, the boy is car obsessed.

As we drove out of Shepparton the next day he saw a cow in a paddock on the side of the road and his immediate comment was "Oh look.  A cow.  A real cow".  His deadpan manner just made it so very funny.

When we got to our motel in Bendigo we checked out the room and Mr Busy was very excited about the idea of a spa.  I have spent 18 months cleaning B&B spas in my lifetime and I will  not get in one again.  Seeing what comes out of those pipes is just gross and you can't guarantee that accommodation establishments clean the spa after every guest.  But ... it gave him something to do for an hour and I got to read in peace.  Sometimes a little bit of gross on someone else is kinda worth it.  Don't judge me until you have a 14yo boy driving you nuts!! His best discovery in this room, however, was electric blankets.

"Hey Mum - there are power blankets on the beds!"

Power blankets.  There you go people, you heard it here first.

I've had to put a stop to anyone in the family repeating the comment.  He's now upset that we find it so hilarious, but I'll tell you now I laughed hard for a good half an hour when he first said it.

And the girls have got some more driving hours.  Not so funny.  Pretty stressful in fact from my designated position behind the driver's seat.  Miss Mischief gave me a hand massage last night as Miss Sunshine drove through the city in very heavy traffic.  Don't get me wrong - they're doing great.  They're just not as well acquainted with the use of brakes as I would like.  And have an attitude of "I know Mum...."  Yeah, I don't think so.  I know what you don't know that you don't know.  Every time one of them was in the driver's seat we would have at least one moment where I would be murmuring "You're going to kill me".  

Cocky.  That's what they are.  

Having learner drivers is worse than  having toilet training toddlers.  This lasts longer and your life is in their hands.  With toilet training it's just mess that won't kill you.  What was I thinking, when I was so stressed about little people taking six months to be trustworthy with their toileting abilities???

I'm looking forward to driving myself to the city tomorrow.  Yessire...all by myself.  Truer words have never been sung.

Snap! 'Corruptions'

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I had my niece in a language rotation group yesterday.  When I told her I needed to read the instructions first because I was pretty sure we were meant to play Snap! instead of Memory she responded "Oooohhhh, I didn't know this game had corruptions".  Needless to say I laughed.  And laughed.  "Honey, they're INstructions" I said, when she looked at me wondering what was so funny.  She didn't get it.

You heard it here first, people.  Innocent games corrupt the unwary player!

Put Your Glasses On

My youngest student comes out with some hilarious off-the-cuff comments from time to time.  Little kids come out with some great one-liners and part of what makes them so funny is that they often have things quite upside down and don't realise it.  I had one such moment this week.  My student was enamored with a book about sharks, which had plenty of pictures of sharks which were labelled with captions identifying what kind of shark they were.  One page had a shark approaching a shark cage, and the caption was to do with the cage, not the shark.

Student:  What shark is that?
Me:  I don't know, it doesn't say.
Student:  No, what's that shark?
Me:  The words are talking about the shark cage, not the shark.  It doesn't say what the shark is.
Student:  Yes, but what shark is it?
Me:  [read the caption].  See, it talks about the cage.
Student:  Put your glasses on!

Because in the mind of a 7yo putting on glasses, that help you see, will help you read things that aren't on the page.

I wish!

Why Boys Can't Get Out of Bed

I went to get Mr Busy out of bed the other morning, having woken him some 10 minutes earlier.  He informed me he couldn't possibly get up.

Me:  Get out of bed young man.
Mr Busy:  But I can't Mum.
Me:  Why not?
Mr Busy:  Because my legs are just too comfortable to move.

I must at admit, when he got to 'legs' I began to panic and thought maybe he'd contracted the virus that is going around school, decimating classes left, right and centre.  Among the many symptoms one that has been suffered by some has been heavy legs.


I'm now sure how he does it ~ his brain just thinks in 'funny' as he is waking up.  My brain only thinks when the need for silence is satisfied.  And then it's just serious stuff going on.

He makes me laugh.

The Secret Life of Pillows

Either I've been watching too much Cosby Show or I have a weird sense of humour all by myself.

This morning when I went to wake the children for school Miss Sunshine and Mr Busy both had me laughing.  Miss Sunshine had two pillow sitting on her head, with her face smooshed into the mattress.  In the midst of waking her I insisted she needed to get out from under the pillows which seemed to be holding her down.  "It's a hold-up" she said.  She has a funny sense of humour too.  Meanwhile, Mr Busy's pillow had dropped off the bed when he was waking.  There I am, between two bedrooms....one child with pillows holding her down, one with pillows running away.

Miss Sunshine came out after having dressed rather quickly.  "Had to get away from those pillows," she commented.

Yep.  Too my Cosby Show

Imitation and Flattery

I have just the best laugh and my it felt good.  I was checking through my Uni message boards and had a look at a new lesson plan that someone had belatedly posted.  Oh my, it looked so familiar.  No, it wasn't a thread started by me, but that plan looked like something I am intimately familiar with.

The plan itself was different.  Entirely.  The template....mine!  Right down to the font used.  Some very wise student must have looked through all the previously posted plans, noted which ones gained critical (I mean that in a good way) feedback from the tutor and decided to imitate a plan that had garnered a "great work" response.

And do you know what, I have just laughed and laughed.  I am touched that someone else thinks enough of my work to feel it worthy of taking on board for themselves.  I think that is what collaborative learning is all about.  This student's lesson plan is entirely their work and it's a darn good lesson, I think.

Conversatiions with Mr Busy

Mr Busy has always been an entirely entertaining little character to live with.  When he's not around, he leaves a void and quiet somberness is all that remains.  Don't get me wrong ~ I long for that quiet on many days.  But I also miss the laughter he leaves in his wake.

At Home:
Mr Busy:  What's for dinner?
Me:  Corn soup.
Mr Busy:  Nigella's corn soup with the corn chip things on top?
Me:  Yep.
Mr Busy:  YES!!!! (hands raised like he'd won Bathurst)

At School:
Mr Busy:  Mum, I don't understand.  Can you help me?
Me:  Sure, what's the problem?
Mr Busy and I then go back and forth between his lack of understanding and me helping him figure out what to do.
Repeat about 20 times in 20 minutes!
Me:  Go and stalk someone else, I'm trying to help other kids too, you know!
Mr Busy:  gives me a hug and a kiss and hops off to visit his teacher.

It seems I've educated him very well at home....at school we've a long way to go!

Dead Mouse Running

Last night Miss Sunshine was digging through the linen cupboard, in a box of old baby rugs and stuff. When she screamed and jumped back I thought she'd found a dirty great big Huntsman spider or something. When she could finally speak again, she informed me she'd found a mouse. Not a dirty great big spider but a wreaker of of havoc disguised in the somewhat cuteness of a tiny furry body.

What to do with a mouse in your house, cornered in a box it can't jump out of? Well, first you have to catch the thing. Miss Sunshine suggested tongs, but unlike a recent reflexes activity in class, my reflexes were not so in tune with a mouse.

We emptied the box of its contents, leaving something for the mouse to hide under until we were all prepared. A small bucked of hot, hot water; a pair of tongs; an ice cream container; a folder. These are the tools of mouse eradication. We removed the last piece of cloth from the box and caught the mouse under the ice cream container. Then we got a folder to slide under so we could move the mouse into the bucket of hot water. You know, that thing swam it's little heart out....until he met with the tongs that we held him under with.

Miss Mischief valiantly carried the bucket and the mouse outside and tipped him over the back fence, where the previous drowned mouse was deposited. Fertiliser for the nursery behind us....or kookaburra food....whichever happens first.

I have been asked, previously, how I could possibly do such a thing. Easy. That mouse was in people space. Had he stayed outside, his life would remain intact. And why drowning instead of squashing? Again, easy. I don't like the idea of cleaning up mouse guts in the process of demousing my house!