There are about nine thousand “my kids say the funniest stuff/crud/crap/sh*t blogs. Well, my kids are funny, too, and I’m still casting around for something to do with my regular Monday posts. You’ll note this post is being published on Tuesday, just further evidence that I have no idea what to do with Monday. But, I digress.

My son is the funniest person I know. He’s smart and quick-witted. His humor is also obscene. I have spent nearly a year trying to figure out how to present him in a blog that is frequently read by those with more delicate sensibilities, like my husband.

My son gets particularly ribald when in my company. This is probably evidence that my parenting skills leave something to be desired, but I think the cow is out of the barn on this one. My husband used to tell us that we had gone too far, that I was just encouraging our son’s baser nature, to which I said, “Well, duh!” He’s given up; now when my son and I get going, my husband takes off his glasses and buries his face in his hands.

Our daughter, though, is far more subtle. Recently, she agreed to go to exploratory meetings for joining orchestra. Your and my tax dollars make it possible for her to learn to play an instrument; the only cost to us is rental of said instrument. Originally, daughter was on board. Then, she figured out she’d have to practice and get up early for rehearsals. Her enthusiasm waned, but she committed to the two early morning exploratory sessions.

This morning was the first. At 6:30, I went into the office to wake her. (Why, you ask, is she sleeping in the office? See photo below.) I gave her a little nuzzle then a soft “Peanut, it’s time to get up.” She didn’t move. “Remember?” I asked, “you agreed to go to orchestra.” Without opening her eyes, she let out a groan and said, “What did I ever do to you?”