He's Unique

All-a-Boy wanted to get in contact with a friend from his old school to arrange some play time over spring break next week. He pulled out the phone book in an attempt to locate his phone number and found the page with his friend's last name.

"Do you remember his mom or dad's name?" he asked me.

"All I remember is that his dad's name is unique," I answered.

"Really? His dad's name is Unique?! That should be easy to find, then!" All-a-Boy exclaimed as he continued to scan the phone book.

"No, I mean it's not your typical name that you hear everyday. It's not a normal name. "

"I know what you mean," All-Boy responded. "Kind of like the name Gerberta."

Exactly.

Just To Clarify...

I sure appreciate all the ego-boosting comments that were left after my last post. I promise, I wasn't having a pity party - although (Allen pointed out) it may have appeared that way. Here's what I mean when I say no one appreciates my specialness...

I have many rare talents.

For example, I can pretend I know all the words to any song on the radio by filling in my own words when I'm not sure what is being said. You know that song, "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat? I love singing that one... It starts in my toes and I crinkle my nose and that just shows that I'm good with prose. You make me smile, please stay for awhile now or else I will stalk you wherever you go. See what I mean? It's a gift.

You know how the overhead music at the grocery store occasionally plays a dancing song - one you just want to groove to? Well, I don't hold back. When my body wants to move to the music, I oblige. Who cares that the 20-somethings (and my kids) are mocking me? Usually an offer of some soft-serve changes their minds - and occasionally Coolister or Thumbelina will even bust a few dance moves right along with me. (note to self: Try offering soft-serve to the 20-somethings to loosen them up. You know they wish they were you.)

When my kids get invited to a last-minute birthday party I can craft a gift with some random supplies like felt and eyelets within a half hour. I mean, I'm sort of like McGyver, but with a sewing machine. Does it get any better than that?

I have a knack for using the word poop around my kids whenever possible, mostly because it makes them giggle nervously. (Why is everyone afraid of that word? Everyone does it. What's the big whoop?)

I can remember sayings from my childhood at the most convenient times. For example:
Random Person: Shut up!
Me: I don't shut up, I grow up. But when I look at you, I throw up.

I can also push a cart full of kids, pull a cart full of groceries and carry a baby on my hip, all while finding the best price on peanut butter. Are you catching my drift here? Specialness.

But how is all this talent received by those I spend most of my time with (a.k.a. my children)? With eye rolls and exasperated sighs.

But secretly, I think they love it. So I'll keep trying my best to really let all my specialness shine through.