No, I Wasn't Watching That...

Admittedly, we are TV junkies.  I have this bizarre fascination with educational TV and documentaries.  On any given cold wintery day (or most any late evening) I can be found plopped on my couch, snuggled up with the hubs watching either of the aforementioned.  And then, I have a guilty pleasure.  A self-indulgence so wicked I'm nearly ashamed to go into it.  But discuss it I did, and found that many parents of small children share my obsession.

Thank you, Disney Channel for Phineas & Ferb.  Many nights, I find myself still watching enthralled long after my children have gone to bed; having selected yet another episode from our Netflix queue.  And I'm not alone.  These two fun loving and genius kids, along with their pet platypus turned secret agent, can keep me endlessly entertained.  The show is witty, hilarious and horribly addicting.  Let me explain their magic.

The show has offensive stereotypes straight down to their fat white trash bully or the Indian kid who yearns for extra credit, yet the show is hardly offensive.  There is creativity and song abound.  Song?  Yes, song...  Most recently we watched a repeat episode where they circumnavigate the world during the solstice to truly make the most of the longest day of the year.  They stop in the Himalayas to visit Baljeet's uncle's rubber band & ball factory.  This clip is not for the faint of heart....

This song was stuck in my head for days on end.  Just when I thought I might be rid of singing it at my desk while at work, my husband goes out for the night.  During our bedtime routine, my son was lollygagging through his shower.  I promise music should he continue in a timely fashion.  I play the clip.  This bubble laden kid starts to shake it.  "Rubber bands....RUBBER BALLS"  [insert a pelvic thrust here for good measure]  I snort.  "THEY CAN BOUNCE BLAH BLAH MMMM MMMM SOME AYYYYYYEEEEE".  This kid belts for all he is worth.  His bubble covered body poof becomes a microphone.  [throw in some more tiny hiney shaking]  I bust out laughing and have to leave the bathroom.

Moments later he emerges, only to stand in his robe in the living room shaking his posterior like it's his full time job.  His sisters get up and join in.  Suddenly, everyone is singing.  Loudly; and off-key, "RUBBER BANDS, RUBBER BALLS....THIS IS WHERE THEY TEST THE STRETCHING..."  I get up and attempt to corral the next one into the bathroom.  For any parent out there, you know this is as pointless as herding cats.  Finally, everyone is bathed and rubber-banded out.  I breathe a sigh of relief and plop on our couch.

My husband strolls in an hour or so later, to find me in the same position, and totally engrossed in - you guessed it: Phineas & Ferb.  And it never once occurred to me to change the channel.  He begins to laugh at me...that is until I get up and sing, "Rubber bands, rubber balls..." Let's just say the kiddies aren't the only ones who can shake it to this catchy beat...

Show Me Yo Teef...

This past week has been an adventure, as we have assembled our family for our yearly reunion.  This is something I look forward to every year.  We took the week off.  We visited.  We went places.  We laughed...a lot.  And most of all, we learned all about dentures.

My son is a precocious little boy.  Not your typical little boy.  He likes dinosaurs, but not like most boys do.  He likes to learn about them, to sit for hours studying their anatomy, to dig for their bones in my back yard.  He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up...well, for now.  After this week, I think he might want to be a dentist.

See, I needed someone to watch my kids while I went out to the car.  Bring in: Aunt Mary.  Come to find out I didn't need to go to the car, so I walked in on a run amok game of Simon Says.  I stepped in.  My oldest was horrified when I shouted, "Simon says take out your teeth!" and Aunt Mary complied.  My son was transfixed.

Aunt Mary's teeth that night became something akin to a rock star in my house.  "She can take them out, that is SOOOOOO cool."  We had more conversations than I can count.

"I want to be able to take out my teeth, but they're in there pretty good."

"I wonder if her teeth hurt her?"

"Great Grandpa Hausler had fake teeth too, which allowed him to eat hard things like rocks!"

Really?!?!  Rocks?  It's become fact that I cannot argue against, because all three of my creative children have seen him eat hard things, such as rocks and boulders, when he was alive.  Nice.  I'm glad you all will remember your Great Grandfather fondly, but must you really call him Great Grandpa Rock Biter?  Sigh...

At dinner I sit my son next to Aunt Mary, knowing full well I can bribe him to eat his dinner if she takes out her teeth once more.  He walks in, and lights up when he sees her.  "Aunt Mary, will you come sit by me?"  He proceeds to plague her with questions about her dental apparatus.  This poor woman.  Our rides home every night are spent answering and  dodging questions about how grown ups get fake teeth, while staring at this little boy who is plotting on getting his own pair.

"George Washington had wood teeth," pipes the oldest from the back seat.  Oh Boy.  "Well, if wooden teeth are good enough for our first president, they are good enough for me."  And that was that.  At least birthday present shopping this year has been made easier for me.  "Hi, I'd like one set of archaic wooden dentures, please?"

And for anyone who encounters my son on a go forward, please be patient when his first question is, "Can you take out your teeth???"