Comedy Central has nothing on the cast of nine-year old boys I get to hang out with.
Deal had friends over to celebrate his birthday recently. We didn’t do much in terms of providing entertainment. No magician or mad scientist as we have done in the past. This year the boys ran amok with Nerf guns. There was, however, no shortage of entertainment. But the boys were the ones entertaining us.
“Boiled blood is my favorite drink. I drink it through a straw.” This was a non-sequitur in the car from the most gentle kid I know.
“Music is my life.” Rock on, little man.
“My mom had a tube stuck up her butt.” A lesson in never telling your children too much about your doctor’s visits and a reminder to look into when I should schedule a colonoscopy.
“Stupidity runs in my family. On my dad’s side.” Duly noted, kid.
I also learned that nine-year old boys can turn anything into a poop/fart joke. They are obsessed with bodily functions. They don’t wash their hands without nagging reminders. They can eat their weight in candy and ice cream. They are dirty and sweet and funny and loud. They sing with wild abandon.
There was that moment in the car when one boy said, “I know all the words to Domo Roboto.”
And then a car load of 4th grade boys broke out into Mr. Roboto. Perfect pitch. Spot on lyrics.