Grandma

While trying to evade capture, and the eventual clothing and tooth-brushing in which it would result, my son executed the perfect sweep-kick.  It was really cool.  I asked him where he learned to do that.  

He replied “Grandma.”

My son is riding his bike.  He casually leans to one side and spits.  Eeeew.  I don’t want to raise that guy.  I tell him it’s rude.  I ask him where he learned that. 

“Grandma”.

I’m cleaning out the fridge (trying to get to the bottom of the what-the-fuck-died-in-here smell).  My son examines the contents.

“This says ‘Coors Light’.”

“Where did you…”

“Grandma.”

WHAT THE HELL GOES ON AT GRANDMA’S?

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3 responses to “Grandma

  1. Wow, sweep kicking, spitting, and beer at Grandma’s. My grandma [sorry Grandma but it is true] was not nearly that exciting.

    The big question of course is what is a device of the devil like Coors Light doing in the refrigerator? Oh the horror!

  2. We used to keep a case of Bud around for “gardening”. I m’self hate beer (and my dad’s a rabid homebrewer, go fig). If you ask my kids, beer’s only good for one thing: “Killing slugs!!!”

    Nice blog, good stuff.

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