A mother/son talk

Tonight my son seemed restless. Distracted. And so, after he swallowed his fourth taco (no, not whole--it just seemed that way) he asked me a question.

Poppy's son: Mom, is it hard to be funny?

Poppy: For some people--yes, I suppose it is. But for other people--the lucky ones--well, wit and humor are always threatening to burst out--sort of like an explosion of yellow baby diarrhea up the back of a diaper.

Come with me, my internet, to the stream, the stream of consciousness

OK, so I finally get around to checking out today's Mamarazzi.

And that means I have to head over to Youtube to see what Saturday Night Fever footage is to be found.

And that means I have to watch a montage of clips of Travolta dancing to the Bee Gees "Stayin' Alive."

And that means my son has to start rocking out with his bad self.

And that means we both get an ear worm.

And then my daughter starts coughing upstairs.

Poppy:

Oh God, I hope it's not pneumonia like last year September, 2006.

Young Master Buxom:

[cough]
[cough]
[cough]
[cough]

Staying alive! Staying alive!