For Sale, Eleven Year Old Boy

FOR SALE: Eleven year old boy, cheap.

Full disclosure – he sings all day about farts and snot. He fights constantly with his sister and tracks in mud. His room looks like a tornado just hit.

Also, he’s very geeky. He loves gaming, dressing like an elf, and digging holes out in the woods for hours.

But he can also be quite charming. And kind, I guess, sometimes. He’s industrious, wicked smart, and incredibly loyal.

Very snuggly.

Beautiful.

Brave.

Nevermind. He’s not for sale.

OK Google

(driving)

Me: “Hey kids, listen to what my phone can do without me even touching it”

(clears throat)

Me: “OK Google, play funk music.”

(Google Assistant plays funk music)

Danger Monkey, age 11: “What else can it do?”

Me: “I don’t know. Let’s see. OK Google, play monkey noises.”

(Google plays monkey noises)

Little Miss Thing, age 8: “Hey Google! Do a dance!”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t think…”

DM: “Google, play fart noises!”

LMT: “Google, jump out the window!”

DM: “Google, access Dad’s bank account!”

Me: “Hey now…”

LMT: “Google, take control of the car and drive us to ice cream!”

DM: “Google, transfer $100 from Dad’s checking account and mail it to me!”

Me: “And… we’re done.”

(turns off phone)

Sick

Me: (tiny cough)

Little Miss Thing, age 8: “I think you’re sick.”

Me: “I’m not sick.”

LMT: “I think you have that one disease.”

Me: “I’m afraid to ask.”

LMT: “You have P-new-mommia.”

Me: “Do you mean pneumonia?”

LMT: “No, it’s P-new-mommia. You have to go pee… with a newspaper… and Mama!”

(so much giggling)

Me: …