deepest apologies from the queen of blogslacking

We've had a lot going on around here and the blogging has suffered.  But never fear, the funnies are still flying out of little h.

Yesterday, in fact, I took the little joker to see the pediatrician.  He really wasn't feeling well and was a little subdued for him.  Not, by any means, lethargic, and compared to other 5 year olds, you wouldn't have picked him out of a line up as the sick one.  However, when we got to the doctor's office, he got really quiet, partially because he was nervous and partially because sometimes he is shy (it's true!)  

So anyway. . .  toward the end of the visit, he made a couple of lurchy, hiccuppy twitches.  I asked him if he was okay but he just stared blankly at the wall.  I asked him if he was going to be sick and he still just stared.  The doctor asked him if he was okay and said to me, "He really doesn't look good."  Just as we were starting to panic that he was either having a stroke or about to throw up, a slow grin spread across his face.  Then he said, "HA!  I got you both.  I got you good - I was holding in my coughs so you'd think I was going to frow up.  Ha ha - that was a good one." 

ponderings on what happens after this life. . .

"If I ever die, I'm gonna go in hell and just play star wars lego complete saga all the time."

(We asked him about the going to hell part because nobody we know who he spends time with believes in a going to hell kind of concept and he just said, "Oh, nobody told me about it.  I just know that when you die, you go in hell.")

heh. . heh. . heh. . . blehhh.

joe:  Wow, I'm nearly 93 points behind in this scrabble game.

h:  Oh!  I can help you.  Do you have the letters to spell 'alien?'

joe:  Nope.

h:  Hmmmm. . . OH!  How about 'baahhth.'

joe:  Birth?

h:  No.   'B-A-A-A-A-H-H-T-H.'  You know, barth.  Like to frow up.

little h then proceeds to pretend frow up, only he starts it like a fake sneeze.

Bodily functions are difficult to convey when you have issues with Rs, interchange THs and Fs, and when you mix them up with other bodily functions.

I'm going camping and I'm taking. . .

an oldie, but a goodie. . .

Summer before last, when little h was 4, we were on a little road trip with friends and playing the game, "I'm going camping and I'm taking . . . "  in which you take turns making up something to take camping that starts with each letter of the alphabet and with each turn, you have to remember what everyone has said so far.

Not much interested in taking turns or the alphabet, little h randomly yelled out, "I am going camping and I'm taking tree sap and cidarettes!  OH!  AND a houseful of naked womans."

(those weren't typos, that's just how little h pronounces things)

magic spells, little h-style

Standing at the commode, doing his business:

"Wingardium levi-penis."

we interrupt you're regularly scheduled program with a funny from the big sister

little h has some issues with chocolate, so we avoid it - especially in the evenings.  One evening we were driving through a fast food place to get some ice cream sundaes for a treat.  little h's older sister was really wanting a hot fudge sundae but knew she couldn't say the words in front of little h or he would want one too. 

As we were ordering, I got this request from the sister in the back seat, "Could you order me a hot f-word sundae.  Heavy on the f-word please."

checkmate

little h likes to play chess.  And though he knows the rules and could, theoretically sit down and play an entire game without, say, stealing his opponents knights and hiding them in his pants, he really prefers to play by his own rules.

I thought that perhaps he was the last person in the family I could still beat at chess, but I suffered a devestating loss to him recently.

In my defense, it was a hybrid game of scrabblechess and only little h really understood the rules.  In our game he. . .

. . . captured both of my "bushups" in one move with his "pond."

. . . made his king do a triple back flip diagonally across the board so he could shoot my knight.

. . . "reloaded" my pond and turned him into a robot that worked for him.

. . . "remoted" my king to a position off the board.

. . . checkmated my queen with an 'F' tile.

. . . knocked over several of my pieces, effectively destroying my strategy, with a 13" tyrannosaurus rex named Joseph.

. . . and, in a move that destroyed any chance I may have had to capture any of his pieces, his bushop avoided capture by jumping 3 feet into the air as my queen approached his square.

Checkmate.

holy h

a prayer from little h:

"HEY Jesus Christ! How 'bout you drop a hundred gallons of poop on Andrea's head today.  Amen"

(is there anything quite so inspirational as pudgy little dimpled hands folded in prayer?)

breakfast table wisdom

h:  Hey, do I know how to read yet?

mom:  I don't know, do you?

h:  SOMEONE PUT A NEWSPAPER IN FRONT OF ME, QUICK!!!

[mom puts a newspaper in front of him, he peruses it for a bit]

h:  Hmmm. . . Nope, not yet.  I'm getting close, though.  I think.

a new take on and old saying. . .

Sticks and stones may break my penis, but words will never pee me.

what did ya learn in kindergarten today, little h?

mom:  what did you learn in school today, little h?

h:  never argue on a battlefield.  you will end up dead.

Have Mercy

a longish statement from little h regarding the lazy language skills of teenagers. . .

Why does my brother always say cool?  I mean, yesterday, I was pooping while he was taking a shower and I had to do a mercy flush and I said, "I am doing a mercy flush. It's not a real flush because I am not done pooping, but it's a mercy flush because I need to do a mercy flush in the middle of my poop."

My brother said, "Cool."

Mercy flushes are so not cool.

name-calling

h:  Hey, Andrea . . . you know some people call you 'poop-hole,' right?

me:  What are you talking about?  Nobody calls me poop-hole.

h:  Yes.  Some people do.  I've heard them.

me:  Who?  Who calls me poop-hole?

h:  Well. . . I do.  I call you poop-hole, sometimes.

wednesday's wisdom

h:  What are you going to do while I'm at school today, Andrea.

a:  I've got some work to catch up on.

h:  OK.  I hope you remember to listen to your body, though.  Always listen and respect your body.

meditative monday

I walked past the bathroom recently and witnessed little h on the commode in the lotus pose. 

"HEY! Check it out . . . I am meditating. . . ON THE POT!"


He takes meditation very seriously.

fartsy friday

Everyone in the blogosphere has cute themes for different days of the week, so I thought little h should join them.  We're not quite as cultured as ten on tuesday, or wordless wednesday, though, so fartsy friday, it is.

Little h is a particularly gassy fellow with a very keen sense of smell.  Combine those qualities with his love of descriptive words, and you get some interesting self-observations.

Such as . . . "mmmm. . . that faht smelled delightfully beautiful. . . like lip gloss, bubblegum and poop."

what did ya learn in kindergarten today, little h?

 h:  Oh, the human body.  You know. . . like, oh, what is that thing that pee-tects your brain?
 
mom:  Your skull?

h:  Yes.  The skull.  I learned about the skull.  B-I-S-T, skull.

mom:  [smile]

h:  Oh, no.  Did I spell it wrong?!

you asked for it. . .

For ages, people have been saying I should write a book with all of little h’s quotes.  I can’t really fathom an editor looking at my 23+ pages of scribbles of little H-isms and saying, “YES! This is just the manuscript we’ve been looking for! 

We were at a party once, and little H introduced himself by extending his cute (and probably filthy) little hand and saying, “Hello, my name is little h dot com.  Yep, that’s right, I am my very own dot com.” Sadly, his site is not little h dot com because someone else is occupying that moniker (with a blank blog – argh) and he or she hasn’t responded to my polite request that he/she give up the name so that someone else could make it the fabulous blog that it’s name would indicate.

You can also follow little h on twitter, but alas, the user name little h was occupied there, as well.  Who know there were so many little h’s in the world? I bet none of them can hold a candle to our own little h, but maybe I’m biased.  Anywho . . . you can find little h on twitter as “lowercaseh”

I will be using material from the ever-growing word file I have that goes back to h’s early days and mixing it in with up to the minute quotes.  Retro, or, to borrow one of his favorite phrases, old-school little h was just as funny as present-day little h.

Without further adieu, on with the show and onto quote #1:
“The password if you want to see my butt is ‘banana peel’ and the password if you want to see me pick my nose is ‘banana poopy butt.”