Flabbergabitty (or Flabergation)

I am so often in a state of flabbergation at these guys, here is a perfect example of why:

(Right there in the middle of all that is written "Invagun."  Invasion as it should be spelled, with a g-u-n.)

I best start with the text that N had handily attached:

Of course out comes the handy-dandy kid-to-parent decoder ring, some of his misspellings are perfect, but I won't include them all:

"The Attack.  One day the earth was getting invaded (invatid) by aliens.  The sun was having a fight (fite) with Saturn.  A comet (comit) is coming.  A man is on the comet trying to steer it.  Mars is crashing into the sun.  Saturn said 'I win,' the battle wasn't over..."

"Saturn was melting.  The sun said, 'I win.'  'No you don't.'  They started a fight while (wall) the earth was getting invaded.  All the planets rushed (rast) over to help the earth.  'The planets win,' said the guy."

Yeah, I totally see that in the photo-like realism of the multicolored crayon drawing. And who is "The Guy" there who called the winner in the end, the universal umpire, the celestial referee?


I have to say that my flabbergabitty doesn't end at the the things these guys make, sometimes it is in what they do.

The other day Z was playing the MarioKart Wii and I asked him a question.  Mind you he is on Rainbow Road, arguably one of the hardest venues on the Mario circuit, he is battling hard with Koopa Troopa for third place, with an eye on Wario in first, he is dodging a bomb and, he gives me a very long answer involving the project they did in Art and, oddly enough, Arthur.  So just as he is in the middle of this, he crashes on a banana, spins out, mid-Art story, and someone flies by him on the track.  He stops the story and says, "curse you, Baby Wario" then continues on to win the race and sum up the Arthur/Art story.

Dude, I can't make it around that particular track, slowly, with no one else on the track without falling to my doom, and don't ask me to tell you a story while I am attempting it.  Come on, dude, give me a break.

(Yeah, the Air Force Academy called to say they are holding him a seat in flight school.)

To stand in slack-jawed awe at your children's accomplishments, skills and desires is to stand simply gobsmacked by the enormity of human potential.  Humanity rides on these children and, through their abilities, you begin to see that they sense that, they smell the future, they know they must get better, find their skills, lean forward and live full-out.

Either that or seven-year-olds are very strange little creatures.

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

"O-PER-AAAAAA"

'Cause that's how we roll around here...