Werewolf Bar Mitzvah

…that seemed as good a place as any to start. Particularly because I come with nothing in particular to say. Seriously, there’s a million things to talk about but I really don’t wanna deal with it – surprise! I know, it’s completely outside of my nature. Sometimes it’s simply because if you don’t get it, I don’t see how you’re gonna get it just because I clarify (placing Carrie Prejean or anyone other than Christ at the helm of Christianity and thinking you’ve finally found your “proof” – tip: God’s gonna ask about you, not her), (Precious: why I could watch it and just think of it as a movie and how we should know better than to assume 99% of Americans can do the same and therefore how about a little decorum and accountability…and then, le sigh, that’s a lovely tightrope: not perpetuating the minority-ness of having to watch what you say because people will hold 12% of the population to it but at the same time being culturally responsible and perhaps making it a touch less probable that so depraved of an account isn’t just presented as “proof”), …. Lord, there’s too much. And that’s why it’s just better – at least for a moment – to join Tracey Jordan in song. “Boys becoming men, men becoming wolves!”

Let’s see. I’m not speaking French any better as far as I can tell. Which is entirely my fault, but feel free not to mention. My son on the other hand is having hilarious outtakes in which he must repeatedly be corrected when saying things like John Deere.

Ezra: Jean Deere.

Daddy: John Deere.

Ezra: Jeeaann Deere. (Confident that he’s repeating Daddy exactly.)

Daddy: *laughing* John.

Ezra: *upset* Jean!

Daddy: *laughing*

Ezra: Jean Deere. (Crosses his arms. It’s settled. He’s saying it right. Daddy’s just being mean.)

I also really enjoy when he says thing like, “That’s not how you say it in this world!” His eyes are comically wide with concern. Did I mention that I (and his father, as mentioned above) end up laughing at him a lot. With him. Laughing with him. This world, yo? Really? Hilarity. I simply cannot wait to hear him speaking French fluently. I will be bowled over with amusement. Hopefully, I won’t be so lame as I currently am.

This week: Happy birthday to my broseph, Andy!!!! And – one the same day – happy birthday to my dovey, Sasha!!

Later this month: Happy birthday to my godmama – auntiemom – auntizzle!!

In celebration of theseΒ  and other special days (like it being Thursday), please feel free to send me a box of these:

Do not judge.

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19 thoughts on “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah

  1. My God.
    I would totally comment more if wordpress didn’t FORGET MY PASSWORD EVERY OTHER DAY.

    And no, I don’t mean the little part of the browser that saves your password…I mean the actual wordpress.com site. I know what my password is… hell I just changed it to this two days ago. But Noooooo. Eff you wordpress!!!

    Anyway. What?
    Oh, the first part totally didn’t make sense OR I’m too tired and post-redbull to make sense of it.

    But thank you for trying.

    Pretty much everything children say is precious. And we have more children than you, so our preciousness quotient will blow yours out of the water. With preciousness. Osity.

    Ummm. Like, the other night Z kept covering his foot with the blanket and uncovering it and yelling “toes right dere!”.

    Like

  2. Oh.
    My.
    Job.
    I will steal your son. But that shouldn’t really be news to you.

    Hah – you’re welcome for trying. I felt like I needed to blog (and journal) but the world is pretty exhausting. So. There you have it. πŸ˜€

    Like

  3. Andy.
    Do you really think there’s a chance that I put the words Werewolf Bar Mitzvah together being completely ignorant of the song THAT I MENTIONED IN THE BLOG POST?
    *shakes head*
    It’s like tomorrow is actually your expiration date, not just the official “into the thirties” birthday.

    Like

  4. I’m late to this, but I wanted to go on record that I think pork rinds are gross. don’t hate me for being honest.
    also, I’d steal all your sons if I weren’t getting my own soon.

    Like

    • πŸ˜€ They’re. So tasty. And perfectly seasoned. And delicious. πŸ˜€ Ant might want you to try a few. And if your boy is anything like you and Andy, I’m down for the occasional swap. πŸ˜€

      Like

      • Hey I already started eating beef for this kid, he can’t make me eat pork rinds too can he?

        And I’m certain you will be down with my son. He’s rad already, I swear.

        Like

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