Today, I’m cheating. I’m stealing the book of alice’s format right out from under her, just this once. Why? Because I met the most hilarious 7 year old boy at an Independence Day pool party this afternoon.
Dripping wet and shivering, Freddie was searching for a dry towel.
Me: Do you want to use one of my towels? They’re dry.
Freddie: No.
Me: Why not? I promise, I don’t have cooties.
Freddie: I know, but I don’t want to give you cooties.
Me: Oh, I doubt you have any cooties. Haven’t you had your cootie shot?
Freddie: Huh?
Me: (taking Freddie’s arm in my hand, I draw two circles then poke him with my finger tip twice) Circle, circle, dot, dot. Now you’ve got your cootie shot.
Freddie: (a look of humor mixed with a healthy dose of disdain on his chocolate-smudged face) What is that? Some kind of baby rhyme?
Erm…yeah. If baby rhyme means the desperate attempt of a 43 year old woman to make a recent first grade graduate laugh, that’s what I was doing. But he did ask for my digits so that he can rap for me on the phone. And when a kid wearing at least eleven different shades of glitter nail polish on his fingers and toes, with blue and reds stripes in his dark blonde hair offers to throw down some rhymes for you, the only correct response is Hell, yeah!
Watch out, Jack White. Freddie’s about to make you irrelevant.
***
Please follow me on Facebook by clicking here because it’s the only way you’ll ever find out if I suddenly die of a brain aneurysm. I mean, I’m not going to blog about it from the grave. And wouldn’t you feel like a shit for cussing me out because I hadn’t posted in weeks or months and it turned out I was dead. And leaving a cheap ass bouquet of grocery store carnations at my grave isn’t going to make it okay. I mean, I’m pretty mellow on Earth, but who knows what will happen when I pop off. An evil, vengeance is mine attitude could make an appearance and you don’t want me wreaking havoc upon you from whatever version of Hell I’m in. After all, I’ll probably be in a lousy mood and I could end up taking it out on your fine china and crystal.
Funnier In Writing 
Cristy,
Freddie went back home, called his friends and said: This gigantic Optimus Prime-like grown-up lady held my arms without my consent and poked me. Somehow, she thought it was funny.
In ten years from now, we’ll learn that Freddie will have developed a fear of giants.
Le Clown
Forgive me for laughing at your expense my darling CCL, but that shit is funny.
Thank you, dear! Though I’m still not as good at the brief, pithy stories like you are. I bow to the master. Your blog is like a perfect, peanut butter cookie with fork marks in the top sprinkled with just the right amount of sugar…delicious, nutritious and sweet.
If you ahd a living, breathing idea-generator in your home that required constant care, you too would master the short but pithy story.
And thanks for the analogy, but can I be another kind of cookie? A fortune cookie, perhaps? One that could, say, take care of a certain student loan?
You can be whatever kind of cookie you want to be. After all, you’re a smart cookie.
Cooties! The dreaded mark of social misfits in 1st grade classrooms everywhere (at least they were, back in the day).
I don’t recall ever getting a cootie shot. I think I just suffered with them until someone else caught them, at which point, I would point at them as if identifying a witch in Salem, Mass. and shriek at how gross they were for having cooties. I’m certain I was never cool enough to warrant an innoculation.
Well…who’s laughing now, cool kids? I’m an all-grown up big deal man with my own car and a blog!
Though sometimes I worry that “writing a blog” is the adult 2012 version of having cooties. God I hope not.
I’m pretty sure it is.
Maybe I should stop telling people..I don’t want to risk being left out of any more reindeer games than I’ve already missed.
It’s too late. Santa’s already sent me a letter demanding that I cease and desist all blogging if I want any Christmas presents this year.
This Freddie: he is alright.
I know. This kid was awesome sauce!
Thief.
And unabashedly so!
Consider it a compliment. I don’t steal from Le Clown.
🙂
Do you know if he had Type A Cooties or Type B? If Type B, you might have put yourself in some real harm.
Don’t worry. I wore gloves and a mask. It was a lot easier to administer cootie shots when I was in second grade. Of course, that’s how I got HIV.
If only I were lucky enough to get my cootie shot when I was Freddie’s age. Kids take cootie shots for granted these days.
That and all those mothers out there who are against immunizations. “Don’t give my kid a cootie shot! He’ll become autistic.” It’s actually the opposite; if you don’t allow your child to have a cootie shot, he’ll be ostracized by his entire class and will eventually learn to do complex math equations in his head and drive around in a car with Tom Cruise. I don’t have to tell you what a dangerous combination that can be.
Ha. But imagine all the winnings he’ll help you get at the casino!
Have you no shame, Tom…er, I mean, Richard?
um, i feckin’ loved this. loved. the kid’s look of horror after the cootie shot and then ‘baby rhyme’? hilarious. loved.
I know…baby rhyme. If I’d had balls, they would have shrunk to the size of raisins.
looooooooooooollll, i couldn’t even type out lol, i was laughing so hard, it came out kaweowieurwerwe=== and i had to delete it!
Wait til you have a gayby. You’ll have so much material. By the time he or she is Freddie’s age, I’m sure you’ll have been insulted more times than Don Rickles’ worst enemy.
stop.it.please. my stomach’s already tormented from yesterday’s meat-feast. you’re making it all jiggle around with laughter.
You had to bring up meat…during my first week of veganism. No, I’m not kidding. I ate wild rice and bean salad all day yesterday. Apparently, beans really do make you gassy.
laughing
Yup….still laughing. Somebody bumped my funny nueron.
FYI, the name of your blog called me in. Tall chicks rock.
You should see me retrieve things from high shelves. I’m fucking phenomenal at that!
Then he went home and bragged to all of his friends that some hot tall chick was totally into him at the party, making baby talk and tickling his arm. He will be king of the 2nd grade!
I live for that.
You have single-handedly cemented his cool guy status for the rest of his school career. Job well done. I don’t want to hear anybody say that you don’t contribute to the future of our youth.
Well, I have often been told that I contribute to the delinquency of minors. What can I say? I like to do my part. Thanks for noticing. It is rare that the work I do with children is recognized.
This moment will be retold from his point of view for years, and by his point of view I mean with increased exaggeration as he gets older. Freddie is a pretty sweet name.
i have issued you a blog challenge. do not deny me!!!! okay, you can, but i will be sad. and your reggie is coming up next. challenge is here: http://www.sweetmotherlover.wordpress.com
I haven’t read the challenge yet, but I’m giggling because I just finished one of those award posts and you are getting a shitload of them from me tomorrow morning. I will check out your challenge and let you know if I am up to the task. My reggie next? I’d better get you a photo…or did I already send you one?
I love your post. I will definitely post back, just as soon as I finish the laundry…. (ok, maybe FINISH is a bit optimistic, even for me, how ’bout I say as soon as I can see a dent in the pile!)
Soooooooo…2014ish?
Well, I got to it, not sure I did it justice, but I did it! 🙂
I will be checking it out! 🙂
And I need the nitwit award since I just spent about half my life looking for the comments link. Which is right in plain view of course.
Anyhow, I know that there is a meaningful, or meaninglesser, comment inside of me, but I am too mesmerized by that doodlywhop your mother created. It may be the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.
Thanks so much. I will pass the compliment along to her. She’s pretty darn talented. In fact, that particular clock is going into a gallery tomorrow; I expect the price tag will be in the $1,000 range. I don’t know what I’d do if someone paid me that kind of money for something I made. Thanks, again!