Eli 9.0We went to Black-Eyed Pea for dinner last night.
"Those are some terrific carrot fillets," I said.
"Huh?" Eli 9.0 said, suddenly interested.
"Fillets," I said. "You have to fillet a carrot before you can eat it. Those long carrots in the store--those are fillets."
"Why do you fillet it?" Eli 9.0 asked.
"Bones," I said.
"Right, Dad," he said.
"Plus you have to cut off the head," I said.
Eli was trying to make his "mean face" on Sunday.
I put that in quotes because Eli doesn't have a mean face. He never tries the angry look to get something, or the scowl, or any of that manipulative crap that kids like to use on their parents.
Sometimes, though, as a joke, he tries to put on the mean face and keep the expression for more than a few seconds.
"Okay, dad, just try to make me laugh," he said, putting on the mean face.
"Two muffins were in an oven," I said, and he burst out laughing.
I didn't tell you about all of Eli 9.0's birthday. The first half was great, but the second half involved poison ivy. Again.
Eli is apparently a magnet for poison ivy, and by his birthday night, the patches were starting to show. He'd been at a Harry Potter camp that week, and Friday morning they played outdoors (Quidditch) for at least an hour. From the location of the rash, it looked like he had handled a ball or something that had poison ivy on it, then touched his neck, face, etc.
Poison ivy is maximum suckage because there's no simple cure, really--everything you can use only offers limited improvement. You get it, you suffer, and finally it goes away. This time, though, Gloria took Eli to the doctor the next morning, and the doctor gave him a steroid shot.
This is the first time Eli had ever gotten a shot in his butt (because his arms are so skinny), and it hurt. He started crying and said to the doctor, "My bosom hurts!"
Best word mix-up ever.