My Husband looks like Kenny Chesney, and other fun thoughts

I thought I would take a second to record some recent little moments from our life that make me laugh when I think about them.

1. Brigham asked me how many candles I wanted on our two year old son's birthday cake. He was defensive about my reaction and insists that it was a reasonable query.

2. Andrew is watching Sesame Street on my parents' couch. Brig and I are next to him. I am talking. I reach the point in my story where words will not suffice; Brig must look at the facial expression I am making. I don't remember what I was showing him, but it required that my eyes be shut. Upon opening them, I saw that Brig had never looked at me. So I complained, of course. He apologized, but explained in all sincerity that he had just never seen that episode before. Of Sesame Street.

3. Three minutes later, we are all focused on Sesame Street. Ernie is playing some game where Bert is supposed to guess a body part with the hint of the first letter. The current body part starts with "N" and I guess, in all momentary seriousness, "Knee!" It was the look Brigham gave me that was the funniest part, for me. (I must be given a break here, I had just gotten home from the hospital having our baby.)

4. Brigham looks like Kenny Chesney. This is always funny, especially when you look at a photo of Kenny or watch him in his videos. I love to think that a guy who wears tight jeans, necklaces, cowboy hats and some type of tank top resembles my husband.

5. While dressing Andrew the other day, he closed his eyes and exclaimed, in his funny little teasing voice, "Andrew no see! Oh no!" He was pretending to be blind, an old favorite game of the Smith sisters circa 1981-present (actually, we haven't played since probably 2001. I know I played it once with an unwilling companion on a boring day on my mission). Having never mentioned nor exposed Andrew in any way to this game, I can only conclude that it is a genetic thing and that I should expect that in a few years, Will and Andrew will be leading each other through crowded areas, one boy with eyes shut while the other walks the blinded right up to people or things or puddles etc. I played this as an adult.

6. Andrew pulled his hands into his sleeves and announced, "Andrew has claws!" A little weird, but I chose to interpret this statement to mean lobster claws. I don't know the origin of this announcement.

7. Brigham is my GPS operator. Unfortunately, he does not really have me on his satellite, so he can only provide me a route if I can accurately provide my location. This leads to problems because I often am calling for emergency backup because I do not know where I am. I became upset with him the other day for his poor navigational skills because he failed to tell me if I should turn left or right onto Wisconsin Ave. It was not until I comprehended his protestation that he did not know which way I was facing (and I could not tell him) that I let him off the hook and allowed him to stay on as my telephonic navigator.

8. As I drove onto my parents' street to pick up Andrew, whom I had left in the care of my father so that I could take Will to his 2 week appointment, a surreal sight awaited me. First I saw a man, who I initially thought was a neighbor lady who I always think is a man but is not, standing in the road with a little boy, who I thought was the neighbor lady's son, but was not. Before I could register anything more, the man began waving his arms frantically, as if I were the rescue helicopter to his crash-site. That was when I saw the boy was Andrew. He was playing in the middle of the road with two toy cars. He seemed really happy. Then my dog rushed in front of my car. The man was the across the street neighbor who, after living there for 35 years while I grew up across the street, did not recognize me either. He asked me in a panic if I knew who this child was. I briefly considered that he was kidding, but it would be too weird a joke. After about 5 minutes of confusion, he finally understood who I was and what had happened. We both began to worry about my dad. Surely Andrew and the dog could only have gotten out if my dad had suffered a stroke or something. The neighbor drove my car down the driveway while I herded Andrew toward the house. My dad wandered out, hands in pockets,
and announced, "The dog got out again."

9. Andrew disappeared into the bathroom. When I opened the door to see what he was up to, hoping it had something to do with the tiny potty I had purchased, he tried to wave me out, saying "No, Mommy, no, Andrew is fixing hair." He had gotten ahold of Brig's hairstick and was rubbing it vigorously into his bangs. Later that evening, I had him on my lap while telling him stories. I started to try to (with my hand) brush away the rat's nest of gooey hair he had plastered against his forehead. He turned to me, took my offending hand in his and said, "No Mommy, Andrew fixed hair. Don't touch it."