Conversations in the Van, part?...I should count these.

Ok, The van seating arrangement has been recently rearranged.
The two oldest are in the middle row and the two youngest are now in the back.
There is a reason why the two youngest are split up in the van. I had forgotten that reason but I sure do remember it now.

The two talk and talk and talk and talk an d fight and talk and talk and giggle and then yell and talk some more.
It is crazy but pretty darn funny sometimes.

Today's insanity.
As Christmas music blares from from the Van radio. (Yes, this is by choice.)
I'm dreaming.....of a white Christmas..... croons Michael Bolton. (Yes, I even had a choice to listen to this Christmas song. We have TWO Christmas radio stations. It's pitiful.)

S: Hey...that guy said Christmas.

A: Yeah....it's a Christmas song.

S: No, it's not!

I'm dreaming.....of a white Christmas..... croons Michael Bolton again.

S: See, he said Christmas again. Did you hear it?

A: It's a Christmas song. He's going to say "Christmas."

S: It's NOT a Christmas song.

A: Yes, it is!

S: NO, it's not!

A: Is too!

S: Nuh-uh. He said Christmas again.

A: IT'S A CHRISTMAS SONG!

S: Nuh-uh.

This continues long enough for Mr. Bolton to end his howling about the virtues of snow. They were then thankfully distracted by Jingle Bell Rock.

I foresee stockings full of coal for those two.
I'm going to have to switch the seating before our trip over the river and through the woods. (And through the cotton fields.)

Conversations in the Van

This is just a quick post because I had to make a record of this precious conversation that explains a lot about my 6 year old's personality.

Thursday evening, I went to tuck him in on his lower bunk bed and my little 6 year old "M" was crying. "I don't want Stamper and Angel to die. And I don't want Max to die either." Stamper and Angel are our dogs. Max is out cat. Apparently, his older brother had told him that dogs only live about 15 years and that our dogs were already 10 years old.
So I spent some time comforting him and explaining that all creatures die eventually. I tried to focus on the fact that Max is only 2 years old and has a lot of time left.

Friday morning, we were in the van and we had the following conversation.

M:Mom, Max is 4 years younger than me right?"

Me: Yep, Max was even born in the same month as you. When you turn 7, Max will be 3.

M: And when I turn 10, Max will be 6. And I'll be 19 when Max dies.

Me: Well it depends on how long Max lives. But you'll be a lot older than you are now.

M: I'm glad people live longer than pets do.

Me: Me too.

M: If you were a cat, you'd be dead by now. (Older brother J glares at him.)

Me: Well, I'd certainly be an old cat.

M: No, you'd be a dead cat. (J glares at him again.)

Me: Well, when you get as old as I am, I'll still be alive.

M: Yeah....but you'll be in a nursing home.


AAAACCCKKKKKK! What a funny kid.