Friday, May 23, 2014

Yo mama

Sometimes, when I find myself repeating the same funny story about my kids a million times over, it makes its way into the hoped-for posterity of my blog. This is such a story.

(P.S. Jack, when you’re 30 and you call BS on this tale, let me assure you it happened exactly as I have transcribed it here.)

Jack came home from school earlier in the week, and he was kind of upset.

Me: Hey, what’s wrong? You seem bummed.

Jack, near tears: Mom, my friends made fun of you all day. I had to defend you from the beginning of school until the end.

Me: Oh, crap, Jack, did they find my blog?


Me: Honey, what in the world were they saying? Why did you have to defend me?

Jack: They...sniff...they said...

...fingers tapping...encouraging raised eyebrows...get on with it, dude...

They said, “Yo mama drives a truck!”

They said, “Yo mama is so old, she walked into an antique store and they kept her!”

Me, trying very, very hard not to laugh: Sweetheart, thank you for defending me. But “yo mama” jokes are a type of joke, and they’re not really jokes about me.

Jack, relieved: Really? They weren’t talking about you?

No, honey. But thanks for sticking up for me.

Jack: Well, it didn’t make sense anyway. I told them you drive an SUV.

Ba dum bum.

No comments:

Post a Comment