My Children Are Not Aliens

I feel the need to state that. Publicly. Maybe it will offset the overwhelming evidence to the contrary that my children so publicly offer on a regular basis.

Yesterday, we met Kailani and Amber at the airport (bearing gifts of flowers and a hubby-made shamrock-sculpted cake) to welcome them home from Ireland. While we were waiting, my hubby was approached by numerous people admiring the large green cake he held.

Daredevil took this as an invitation to begin conversations with strangers.

This was not good.

You'll recall that Daredevil has no filter between what he thinks and what he says. And that he does not consider ANYTHING to be rude as long as he has avoided the obvious pitfalls of using profanity.

Therefore, questioning people on their way into the men's room as to the nature of their business therein falls under the category of "Acceptable" in Daredevil's book.

Also deemed "Acceptable" is the following response to those who jokingly asked "Hey, is that cake for me?" : "No! We don't even know you! Why would we bake you a cake?" or, the more pithy reaction: "You're wierd."

And finally, when a limo driver waiting for his fare recognized my hubby from his radio gig and stopped to say hello, Daredevil leaned in, gave the limo driver his best impression of his mother's Beady Eye and said "Hey! Who are you? Why are you talking to my dad?"

Today, after church, we went with Kailani and Dusty to TGI Friday's and ordered mozzarella sticks to tide the kids over until their lunch arrived. While we waited for our appetizer, the background music played the opening notes of Queen's "We Will Rock You" and my children proved that, while their education may be lacking in some areas, the heading of "Classic Rock" has been substantially covered.

They sang the song. Loudly.

I was impressed that they knew most of the lyrics and that Daredevil, at least, managed to be mostly on-key. We were at the restaurant just as it opened so there was only one other diner in our area and he poked his head around his booth, grinning, and egged my children on.

Not that they need any encouragement.

The mozzarrella sticks arrived as the music shifted to Pink Floyd. I handed out mozzarella sticks left and right, giving out seconds when the first was inhaled.

Halfway through his second mozzarella stick, Starshine looked at me and said, in utter seriousness, "Hey Mom! These have cheese in them!" He even managed to sound surprised.


Ah yes - Starshine. There may be a touch of outer space in my children's DNA after all...