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Reasons to Live Friday #4

Today’s list…..My daughter’s side-splitting sense of humor.

Here’s a recap of the day-  It was the last day of school and we went to the beach with her brother and his buddy. They went off to dig in the sand and play on the play structure.

She and I stayed back at the beach chairs and towels and played that game where you throw the wiffle ball back  and forth with those basket like catcher thingys. Yeah, that game.

Remember this?

At first I was seated playing catch. I know, I’m so sporty. I was in the chair, and she was lobbing the wiffle ball over to me. Let’s say I was wearing some less attractive shorts. Like culottes. Oh, just hush. It was a beach day. This isn’t Malibu. So anyway, she says, “gee mom, you’re sporting a camel toe”. Don’t ask how my 12 year old knows camel toe. Oh, who am I kidding? She goes to middle school! She probably knows all kinds of foul things!

THEN..

We saw some Sandhill Cranes swoop in to shore. Thems are huge birds. Seeing them swoop in is kind of cool. Then they started chasing each other mid- air so Emma and I were watching and I’m like, “maybe they’ll start fighting”, then she starts yelling, “mate, mate, mate!” Like it’s some kind of chant in the cafeteria of high school egging on a fight. I’m just cracking up. She’s giggling like she’s got YouTube gold ready to happen. Nothing happened and they just did their crane strut down the shore a bit and then flew off for good.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (I just wanted to say that)

We went back to our game. We noticed an older couple sunbathing further down the beach. I think these folks were in their 70s. The woman was rotund and wearing a two-piece. The guy was wearing trunks, NOT Speedos, thank goodness. The woman started to head down to the shore. Mind you- we have a rocky beach, and our water is freezing. This isn’t Hawaii. So she’s just walking barefoot over all those hard barnacle crusted rocks. My kids have flip flops on. They have tender feet. Not this woman. I think she was Russian. She looked like a Helga or Svetlana. I think she could crack walnuts between her thighs. This woman was- sturdy. So she started wading in the water. Emma says to me, ‘I can’t go in the water, it’s too freezing and she’s old!’ We’re giggling wondering when Owen will catch sight of this woman and gross out. Since anyone in a two-piece is gross to him. Although the gentleman hanging back at his towel, Emma reports, is straightening himself. A LOT. She can see him in her direct line of vision. I can’t without turning around. So she’s describing that he’s continuing to ‘fix himself’ inside his shorts. Then she says he’s groping his stomach and chest. I try to turn and look but don’t want to be obvious. I said, maybe he’s giving himself a massage. For circulation. Or something. It’s probably a Russian thing. Like  what Tai Chi is to Chinese people.

‘Helga’ walks back from the beach after splashing herself in the surf. Emma is impressed with her capabilities to withstand the cold and rockiness. I said, ‘I think she has balls of steel’.  And then Emma replies, not missing a beat, “I think her husband likes HIS balls of steel too much”. I’M D Y I N G!

As if this wasn’t enough… then she and I reclined to our loungers to listen to me read a chapter of The Bloggess’ Let’s Pretend This Never Happened aloud, because I’m cool like that. We were cracking up at the pet wild ‘quail’ (turkeys, cough-cough) chapter. I sometimes don’t read the swear words. Emma particularly enjoyed the pet raccoons with ‘jams’ (pajamas for those not reading it) and the dead squirrel puppet in the Cheez-its box.

To top it off, we ended the day watching the first few episodes of Pretty Little Liars on Netflix.

I think this summer is going to go just fine. I also think my daughter is way cooler and mature than I ever was at 12.

And I am grateful that she thinks I’m cool enough to crack jokes with, and comfortable enough to giggle at kissy, smoochy stuff on TV.

Have  a great Friday y’all!