The joke of the day, Noah-style

Him: "Hey, Mom, you know how to make an elephant float?"

Me (gullibly): "No, honey, how?"

Him: "You take one scoop of ice cream, two squirts of soda, and three scoops of elephant!"

Dissolves into hysterical laughter

At his 5-year-old checkup, the doctor commented that he had a very well developed sense of humor. She had NO IDEA. God, I love this kid.

I taught my son the interrupting cow joke.

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Interrupting cow.

Interrupting cow wh...

MOOO!

Okay, it's stupid, but it's my favorite knock-knock joke. So I taught it to my 5-y-o. It took two days to get the timing right, but he's been very creative with it since then. Interrupting cow. Interrupting goat. Interrupting sheep. Interrupting dog. Interrupting chicken. Interrupting rooster.

Yesterday morning, he climbed into bed with us in the morning. "Knock knock!" Who can resist? "Who's there?" "Interrupting tushie!" Interrupting tush..."

FART!

He actually timed it so that he farted to interrupt me responding to the knock-knock joke. I can't decide whether to be insanely proud or horrified.

Moogbiel

A certain young man I know is very interested in recipes now. He came home with one for chocolate oatmeal fudgies from school, and periodically tells me about "secret ingredients." The best invented recipe, though, is for something he called Moogbiel.

Ingredients:

20 cups of boiling water
1 moose
3 cups of sugar

It didn't get much further than that, but I think it involved boiling the moose, and then adding sugar to taste.

Not just a kindergartner, but a white belt too!

The little guy had his last day of school yesterday, the last day of preschool, the day he turned into a kindergartner. We celebrated with a trip to the Smithsonian to see the Ocean exhibit, the dinosaur hall, and the Imax Dinosaurs in 3D movie.

This morning after his karate class, Noah tested for his white belt.

I'm so proud!

Sometimes, it works too well.

It's been a fun week. Last week of Noah's school -- funny hat day, crazy hair day, wear your pajamas to school day, that kind of thing. And today was the last day of preschool. I'm the mother of a kindergartner now. We had a fun morning, had pancakes, and headed in the rain to school. I was focused on driving because of the traffic and the relentless rain, and not paying much attention to the little grunts I heard in the back seat, until they were followed by a heavy sigh.

"Mom, I'm not magic."

"What on earth are you talking about, son? You're completely magic. You're the most magic thing I know. Why wouldn't you be magic?"

"I'm not magic, Mom. I can't pull off my thumb."

"What?"

"Well, you can pull off your thumb, and Daddy pulled of his thumb at dinner last night, but I can't pull off my thumb, see?"

I look in the rear view mirror to see him determinedly tugging at his thumb, and then dissolve into hysterical laughter.

"Oh, Noah, it's okay -- you have to be MUCH older to be able to pull off your thumb. You have to be really old, like 20."

Another heavy sigh from the back seat. I continued to giggle the rest of the way to school. Tonight, I decided that kindergarten was old enough, and showed him the trick.

Spell, smell, who's counting?

We were driving to a friend's house for dinner last night, and debating genetic differences. Things like tongue curling. "Everyone can do it," Noah tells me. "Some people can't," I explained. "Just like some people can't smell it when a skunk sprays. Can you smell skunk?" I asked.

"S - N - I - C - K," he says. "Yep."

You know, it's hard to argue with that.

Well here's something new....

Noah went to Sunday school this morning, and I stayed home and worked on cleaning up my home office, doing laundry, and other assorted household chores. I didn't ever eat, and when he got home, we decided to have a picnic in his room. Peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches. Got out the bread, put on the peanutbutter. Got out the jelly -- we debated between types and picked the purple kind.

"Grape jelly, Noah," I told him.

"WHAT?" His response was piercing.

"It's made from grapes" I explained.

"I don't believe you" he replied.

You know, it's hard to argue with that. "How can I convince you that it's true?" I asked.

"You're a freak, Mom."

His father came in a minute later. I repeated the discussion for my husband's benefit. "I don't believe you, Mom," he said. "I only believe Daddy."

His father informed him that it was grape jelly.

"Okay, I don't believe you either."

Clearly we're in cahoots.