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Category Archives: Beautiful Little Nonsense

Dogbreath

“Mom.” The 8yo is at my bedside early, fumbling with loose baseball pants. “He said he would help me with my belt if I licked the dog,” he says, pointing at his 10yo brother in the hall. “Now he says … Continue reading

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Locker room talk when you’re 7, 9, and 11

Overheard from the hall outside the younger boys’ bedroom after lights-out: “Did you know that every 20 minutes a new batch of boogers grows in your nose? True story.”

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Cocky blooms

        Second grade poetry. “Pink peonysleeping in thelight blooming in thegarden like a showoff.”

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Snapshot of a morning

The 6yo hops into my room in a tote bag, sack-race style, a beanbag chair strapped to his back. Me: “What are you doing?” Him, deadpan: “Living wild.” A minute later the 8yo comes in, not wanting to go to … Continue reading

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People in our situation

The banker is talking to my husband on the phone about drawing up the deed for our new house, considering the ways she might go about listing us as joint owners.   Her: “There are several options for people in … Continue reading

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Being six

Took the six-year-old to the doctor yesterday. All the older siblings were at home so he took center stage, chattering and wisecracking through the whole visit. Afterward I suggested that maybe he could have toned it down. Him: “But he … Continue reading

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Front seat privileges

      When you weigh more than four of the seven humans, you get front seat privileges.

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Beautiful Little Nonsense #9

Dropping off for the 8-year-old’s soccer practice. The younger two boys need a bathroom; I direct to a porta-potty around the bend. The 8yo: “Moms always know where the nearest porta-potty is. Even if you’ve never seen it. Because you … Continue reading

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Beautiful Little Nonsense #8

The 5yo had trouble falling asleep last night, haunted by a DVD we rented from the library that spooked him. “Think about ice cream cones,” I tell him. “Don’t think about the movie.” Him: “But my body keeps pressing the … Continue reading

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Beautiful Little Nonsense #6

The 4yo is doing a maze on paper, blazing wantonly through solid lines. Me: “Can’t go through walls, bud.” Him: “They’re just gates. I push them open.”

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