Monday, February 4, 2013

Garbage Trucks

Matt and Kiel were best, best friends (BBF's, not BFF's) from the time they were able to walk. Kiel lived just down the street, and by the time they were five or six, had hit their comedic peaks.

For example, they were already thinking of career planning. They told me they wanted to be garbage men when they grew up because then they could ride on the back of the trucks. Looked like fun.

Kiel's mom, Holly, still tells the story of vacation Bible school when they were about that age. They came home, she asked them what they learned that day and one of them explained that they learned about "John the Cactus." The other one scoffed, no it was "John the Dentist."

Then there was the time Kiel nearly bit his tongue off...for another day.

I'm still amused. C'mon, guys, now that you are nearly 30, you should be dreaming up some new material.


  1. Bob - You can delete this later in your role as administrator without offending me. For now I just want to see if you've made it easier to leave a comment.

    Has Matt questioned your description of him and Kiel as BBFs? I didn't even register that you had written "best, best friends," probably because I unconsciously filter out perceived typos.

    I love stories about kids learning language. Because of my nephew Michael, Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis will always be Lake Cow Moon to Rosemary and me.

    John the Cactus belongs up their with Round John Virgin in "Silent Night."

  2. Why would I delete your comment? I had no idea that the "real" definition of that acronym was Butt Buddies Forever or something, but isn't the language the kids hear amazing?

    There is another story, mostly about Kiel, when I took them to a movie and corrupted them by sneaking in a few cans of pop. They were about the same age as in the "cactus/dentist" story, and it is a wonderful story to tell as it is replete with sound effects. We were waiting for the movie to begin, Kiel always called me Bob, and it was a big, round version of Bob, sort of in a deep voice. They didn't want to sit with me, like little kids, but I wouldn't let them out of my sight. They wanted to pop the cans before the movie began, but it was quiet and I didn't want them to do it. Finally, after they asked "Can we now?" for the umpteenth time, I suggested that we all cough really loudly and pop the cans at the same time. Kiel looked at me in a wide-eyed way and said, "Well, Bob, wouldn't that be really obvious?"

    I am smiling remembering that incident even now. The first time, I lost my breath.

    Kiel came over one night for a sleep over, which he did from time to time, and it was close to Easter so we decided to blow bubbles from a home-made contraption that I made out of coat hangars and then dish soap and glycerine for the bubbles. They had it all over them, and then we decided to color eggs. But we took raw eggs and blew the stuffing out of them instead of hard boiled, only neither one of the boys could blow that hard without squeezing equally as hard. I thought it was so amusing that I just kept feeding them eggs and we had a wonderful, messy time.

    I don't think moms tend to get that much amusement out of little boys covered in goo.