We drove through the old, winding streets of Northern New Jersey to yet another 6-year old birthday party for a friend of Jonah’s. Ian slept in the backseat. Jonah practiced cool-speak for the party.

“Mom, that train is AWE-some. That train IS awesome. That TRAIN is awesome. Hey, Dad! Cool.”

The train was nice and all, but didn’t really deserve the description of awesome. Jonah was gearing himself up for proving himself with his peers. “Cool” and “awesome” were repeated many times on that 15 minute drive, but surprisingly he held himself back from the potty-speak.

We’ve been getting a lot of fart, poop, butt, weener, hiney, buttcrack, pee-head lately. Sometimes I’m quite sure that he has Tourettes. Before a burp erupts, he must announce it and then attempt to amplify it. (Kick to husband who laughs.) We even got a note home from his teacher who was shocked about a creative combination of words that came out of his mouth last week. The boy likes to get a laugh.

The trouble is that I’m starting to talk like that as well. The other day, Steve asked, “Where’s my book on the Revolution?”. Without pausing, I answered, “In your butt.” I need a job.

The party was at a video arcade. 20 boys were given the run of the arcade. They batted hockey pucks around, whacked moles, and blasted away virtual soldiers with AK47s. I’m quite certain that several of those boys will be doing hard time in about 10 years.

The mother thoughtfully gave the adrenline-pumped boys soda and ice-cream cake. And a goodie bag with matches and a pack of smokes.

We had another birthday party today, which is just insane. This one was at a sports club where 30 kids did gymnastics and had more pizza and cake. Our boy has a better social life than we do. We’re going to start to decline some of these invites, not only because I’m not all that thrilled that my kid is blowing away virtual soldiers, but because we need some quiet.