She's Going To Blow

Conversation in the car on the way home tonight.  Reagan was pouting because she wanted to stay at grandma's house and play with a friend instead of going home.  It was 8:30 pm... bedtime. 

Reagan: "PLEEEEEEASEEEEEE Mom!  I really want to play with her!"
Mom: "Reagan, this conversation is over.  I gave you my answer.  We're going home."
Reagan: "But PLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEEAAAAASEEE? ((whine whine whine))"
Quinn, putting his hand on  my shoulder from the back seat.  "It's okay, Mom.  Calm down.  Don't blow."
Mom: "I am calm!  I didn't blow up.  I didn't say anything!"
Quinn: "But you were about to.  I can totally tell when you're about to blow.  Reagan, you need to be quiet, because Mom is on the verge of blowing."
Mom: "How do you know that?"
Colby: "Because you're making your 'annoyed' face." 
Without even looking in a mirror, I can tell you... I most assuredly was making an annoyed face. 
Quinn: "I can totally read you, Mom, just like I can read Colby.  Like, for example, if I say 'Mom' too much, you blow.  Like the 10th time I say it... watch out.  You yell."
Colby: "And the 2nd time you ask us to do something.  You freak out."
Mom: "It's more like the 12th time I ask you to do something, but you ignore the first 11 times.  Then I blow."
Quinn:  "That's because Reagan keeps the t.v. up too loud."   (editor's note:  [[eye roll]])
Mom: "Well, Quinn, I would like you to teach Reagan that very valuable skill.  Teach her to read my cues and not push me to the point of blowing."
Colby: "Sometimes I do things just to see you lose it."   Thanks, Colby.

If they know what annoys me so well, why do they keep doing it???

12 Year Old Well Child Stats: For the Record Book

At 12 years of age, the boys have the following stats:

Colby: height 5'0.25"  weight 77 pounds    BMI 14.99  (19th% for weight, 66th% for height, BMI in 5th%)
Quinn: height 5'.5"      weight 83 pounds    BMI 15.94  (32nd% for weight, 73rd% for height, BMI in 16th%)

Apparently, there's not a lot of good data out there about one kidney and football, so the doctor said if the boys wanted to play - go ahead.  With appropriate padding.  I guess we let them snowboard and ride a 4 wheeler, so... those are just as dangerous.  And they play all these sports with only one brain and we're fine with THAT, so I shouldn't be worried, right????  Something about football though.  Makes me nervous.  But the physical form has been sign, the shoes have been bought, and my beanpole 5th% BMI boys are all excited to tackle and be tackled. 

So be it.  Bring on 7th grade.

Helplful Observation

Quinn always seems to wax philosophical when we're in the car.

"Mom, I've been alive for twelve years and that seems like such a long time.  I can't imagine how old you are.  You've got me nearly quadrupled!"

Mom: "Well, it seems really short to me!  It goes so fast."

Quinn: "You're already half way to the finish line, Mom!"

Nice.  Thanks for that helpful insight, son.

Sassy pants

Quinn: "Reagan, you're annoying the heck out of me.  You're just so annoying!"

Mom: "Quinn, that's not nice.  The bickering all three of you are doing is annoying me!"

Quinn: "Well, you're welcome to leave the room, mom."

GRRRRRRRR.  That won't take much convincing.  Maybe not the room.  Maybe the house.

Thanks For That.

Quinn was sitting next to me on the bed, his hand on my shoulder.  Then he tapped me.  And then he tapped my arm again.

"What do you want?  I'm right here!"  I say.

"Nothing.  I'm just watching how your arm reverberates whenever I hit it."

Jiggling fat.  Nice. 

Music Man

Both boys are making music digitally and posting it on Soundcloud.  Colby was astounded when someone he didn't know, one "Katherine Higgins", liked his song and started following him. Tonight he said "I think I need to make another techno song, because my fan liked the techno song I made.  I have to please my fan."  Singular.  Fan.  Too funny. 

Why Am I Not Surprised

Quinn in charge of cooking dinner tonight.  I heard him busily working in the kitchen while I lazed in the living room playing the piano.  My heart was full.  Work was being done without any of my input or supervision.

After awhile, Quinn asked me to come in to ask a question.  That's when I saw what was on the menu for the evening.  Peach Cobbler.  And bacon.

His perfect meal.

Maybe not the most well-rounded meal, but he made it himself!