Having An Extroverted Son.

Let’s see … where to begin.

Two days ago, in the parking lot of a Piggly Wiggly, ONE asked an elderly woman who had the unfortunate luck of parking next to us if she “lives in a shoe.”

After I wrangled him into the car I explained the following:

Me: The story of the old woman who lives in a shoe is just a fairy tale.

ONE: What’s a fairy tale?

Me: It’s pretend. Make-believe. Imaginary.

ONE: Oh. Do you think she has a lot of kids?

Me: Who?

ONE: That lady.

Me.: I don’t know, ONE. Let’s just talk about something else.

ONE: Okay Mommy. Daddy ate a shrimp yesterday and it looked like a BOOTY.


Yesterday, we got up at 3:30 a.m. and drove back to Alabama. Husband had been home alone for 5 days and I was pretty impressed with the state of things when we arrived. He even made the bed. That hasn’t happened since we were dating and he was trying to woo me. However … there was no food in the house. Literally. So after we got home, unpacked, and played with all our new crap I loaded them BACK into the car to go to the grocery store.

We parked next to a huge, white truck with some sort of apparatus I can only assume is to hang dead deer from. The driver of this vehicle was a big, burly, mustached man who was obviously getting ready to make a trip into the woods. He had on camo and boots and a knife hung from his side.

ONE was mesmerized.

He said hi to the man and stared as he poured ice into something that looked like this:


The man was polite enough to acknowledge us, but he was really into what he was doing and he seemed kind of … gruff. So I was pretty mortified when ONE called out to the man, “EXCUSE ME … WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ICE IN YOUR PURSE??

His reply: “WHAT?! Men don’t carry purses, boy.”

I mean, we are in Alabama. People take gender pretty serious in these parts.

One thought on “Having An Extroverted Son.

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