Blondie talk

Watching the 7pm news on TV, and the poor woman in her flooded supermarket in Queensland saying, “Life’s a bitch.”

Brownie: “Ooh, she swore.”
Mr JB: “Well, sometimes it’s not quite a swear word like that.”
Blondie: “A bitch is a female dog … or a feisty woman.”
*Pause* [Parental laughter]
Blondie: “Well, that’s what the dictionary said.”
*Pause* [Parental laughter]
Blondie: “I know a feisty woman,” looking in my direction.
JB: “Nothin wrong with being a feisty woman. And you can be a feisty woman without being a B..”

There endeth the lesson.

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In the car on the way to school:

Blondie: “I’d like to fly planes when I grow up but only small ones because to be a pilot for the airlines you need to have been an air force pilot. Mitchell said so and he knows all about planes.”

Brownie: “I wouldn’t want to be a pilot of a big plane because if I crashed it I would kill about 100 people who were on the plane and that wouldn’t be good.”

No, darling, it wouldn’t.

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Both boys were watching Iron Man 2 (with parental supervision, to oversee all things Robert Downey Jnr related). Tony Stark and Pepper Potts were having one of their subtext-laden conversations.

Brownie, to Blondie: “Are they married to each other?”
Blondie: “No, they can’t stand each other.”


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Sitting at the dinner table, Blondie, Brownie and Mr JB were trying not to snigger too much about some fart/snot/inappropriate bodily function type incident. I was deadpan, chewing away.

Blondie, looking at me sympathetically: “Aw, the Mums never get to have fun.”

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There’s an entry below from a few months ago recounting Blondie’s assertion that it was unnecessary for me to apply lipstick in the car “because you already have a husband.”  Then came yesterday, when I again grabbed 10 seconds to throw on some lippy on the way to school/work:

Blondie: “I told you before, you don’t need lipstick because you already have a husband!  One’s enough, and that’s Dad – okay? Sheesh.”

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Blondie, when I was giving him a bit of what-for: “Whoa-whoa, slow the mouth down, Missy!”
[quick pause of realisation]
Blondie: “Oops, sorry about that language.” *angelic smile*

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On the drive to school the boys and I were discussing the possibility of car pooling with the kids over the road to and from school. There’s only one problem:

JB: “Maybe I should talk to Belinda about car pooling to school.”
Blondie: “What’s that?”
JB: “It’s where you would go in Belinda’s car to school one day, and on another day they’d come with us.”
Blondie: “No. Way. Ever.”
JB: “Why? Is it because they’re girls?”
Blondie: “Yeah – absolutely!” (Der)
Brownie: “Who would sit where?”
JB: “Well, in our car you would sit in the back like usual, with your brother in the front like usual. In Belinda’s car you’d sit in the back with your brother, probably next to Susie.”
Blondie: “No way, I’m not sitting next to a girl.”
Blondie: “I mean, I’m doing that now, but that’s okay cos you’re my mum.”

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On the way to school Brownie asked if we’d heard on the news about a dog that had been run over. “It broke its jaw and got a cracked a tooth and a few other things,” he said. “It belonged to someone’s grandma at school.” After which was this reply:

Blondie: “Why was it on the news? Dogs probably get run over every day.”
Blondie: “It’s like saying, ‘A Chinese person went to university.'”

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Blondie tried to swim up sneakily alongside the boat to Mr JB and me while we were having a water cuddle during a day out on the water on Good Friday. But we sprung him, and he us 🙂 Ten minutes later, when we were all back on the beach:

Blondie: “That was a nice romantic moment, wasn’t it.  [quickly correcting himself] With Dad – not me – thankfully!”

He is 9, and growing up fast. Very fast. But not that fast that he’s got it all figured out yet.

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Blondie, urging me to get going in the car: “C’mon, mum, you don’t need to put make-up on, you already have a husband.”

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On the train, reading a magazine that has a full page ad for Terminator Salvation:

Blondie: “Mum, why are their eyes red?”
JB: “I don’t know – because they’re robots?”
Blondie: “And why do they have teeth, if they’re robots?”
JB, amused: “Good question – but why are you asking me things I don’t know?”
Blondie, amused: “Because I don’t know that you don’t know!”

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Leaving the Gentlemen’s Barbers after the seasonally adjusted haircuts and telling Brownie he looked “gorgeous”:

Blondie: “Do you know what I think when you call me gorgeous?”
JB: “Sorry, I knew as soon as I said it it was wrong – handsome.”
Blondie: “Even handsome. I think that girls are going to come from around the corner and just surround me.”

In time, young man, in time.

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Watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, I decided to artfully change channels ‘by mistake’ just as the baddie walks into the propeller during one of the fight scenes.  Big mistake.

Blondie: “Aw, c’mon, what happened!!”
JB: “Sorry, I hit the wrong button.”
Blondie: “Now I missed him walking into the propeller!”
JB: “How did you know that was going to happen?”
Blondie: “You could see it was going to happen. Der.”
JB: “Well, aren’t you glad you didn’t see it?”
Blondie: “No, I like that stuff!” *angelic smile*

= = = = =

Blondie: “I wish Mozart and Beethoven were still alive because I’m a fan.  I don’t have any of their stuff, but I really like their music.”

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Walking away from the ATM outside the bank:

Blondie: “When you said Rediteller did you mean the machine on the wall?”
JB: “Yes, because the people inside the bank who serve you are called tellers, so this is like a ‘machine teller’.  They’re also called ATMs for Automatic Teller Machines.”
Blondie: “Why don’t you go inside the bank and speak to a teller person?”
JB: “Because if you go and get served by someone to get money out, the bank will charge me, but if I use the ATM it doesn’t cost me anything.”
Blondie: “So the bank charges you money to get your own money?”
JB: “Yes.”
Blondie: “By why does the bank take your money to give you your own money?”
JB, pausing for the answer to come to her, thinking [‘bloody good question’]: “Because they say they’ve got to pay for someone to be there to serve you.”
Blondie: “Haww, that’s not right!”

(Which bank?)

= = = = =

Discussing the latest Alice in Wonderland:

Blondie: “Can we go see it pleeeease? I really want to see it.”
JB: “I’m really not sure.  It’s not like the Disney cartoon one we’ve got.  Maybe we’ll watch it on DVD together when it comes out.
Blondie: “But why?  I want to see it at the movies.”
JB:  “It’s quite dark.  It’s made by the same guy who made Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”
Blondie:  “Tim Burton?”
JB, taken aback: “Yes!  How did you KNOW that??”
Blondie smiles, raises eyebrows, shrugs shoulders.

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Following someone of indeterminate gender on a little motorised scooter on the way to school:  “That’s a girl scooter like a girl version of a girl motorbike.”

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Blondie, upon being told I wasn’t going to a family gathering because I was ill: “Aw, mum, it’s just not a party without you.”

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A transformational comment, in the car coming home from school: “I can’t stop thinking about Transformers! I want to play Transformers, I want to watch Transformers, I want to read about Transformers – they’re just in my head all the time!   Except when I’m concentrating on other stuff.”

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Blondie, upon seeing high cirrus clouds in a brilliant blue sky: “They look like the sea in heaven.”

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Blondie – proving a subtle, though not fully understood, absorbtion of my Australia Day concerns regarding vehicular flag fluttering – uttering from the back seat of the car:  “Enough flags already!”*

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Blondie, aka Norman Bates, after walking into the stuffed mammals exhibit at the museum: “Mmm, this room smells nice.”

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