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In the car last night Austen is telling us all about the Halloween dance that’s coming up at school. This will be her first dance in middle school. ALL the kids are going. Someone told her about past dances so she’s relaying that info as well. As usual, her younger sister Erin has the line of the night.

Austen, “I heard that the deejay sucks.”
Me, “Uh . . . I don’t think that’s the word you should . . .”
Austen, “Oh, yeah . . . he stinks.”
Me, “Well I’m not sure . . .”
Austen, “Can you believe he played the Hokey Pokey?”
Erin, “If he plays the Hokey Pokey ‘I’d slap him all about’“

Austen and I jump into Lisa’s car to go to softball practice. The radio is tuned to a country station and the singer is singing something about God.

Austen, “Wow, country music people must really like God, they always sing about him. It’s like they worship God like a . . .”
Me, “A God?”
Austen, “Yeah.”

It’s raining this morning so I’m driving Austen to the bus stop 2 blocks away. Hey, it’s raining hard, leave me alone. Of course she wants to stand in the rain and look cool. Uh, no. I did the same shit, “What? I don’t wanna wear a coat to school. (Insert Mom reason #37) So? I don’t care if it’s 43 degrees out . . . my coat makes me hot.” (Read uncool)

And now here I am :-)

Anyway, while we’re killing time waiting for the bus Austen asks how the Skins are doing overall this preseason. She watched some of the brutal beatdown last week, a loss to Carolina 47-3. I said we were 3-0 before that. I then uttered something like, “man did we get killed”. And that started a list of variable terms on the Redskins beating.

Me, “slaughtered”
Austen, “liquidated”
Erin, “beat”
Me, “eviscerated”
Austen, “smashed”
Erin, “creamed”
Me, “pureed”
Austen, “all isn’t well”
Erin, “whipped”
Me, “stomped”
Austen, “exposed”
Erin, “crushed”
Me, “blasted”
Austen, “emotionally scarred”
Erin, “crying to their mommies”
Me, “sliced and diced”
Austen, “frappéd”

And then the bus came.

Driving down Rockville Pike.

Erin, “Oh, there’s an IHOD.”
Me, “What’s IHOD?”
Erin, “You know, International House Of Diarrhea.”
Me, no reply, still choking.
Erin, “Cuz that’s what I get every time I eat there.”