The following two stories happened on the same day last week.
Buddy came home from school to inform me he got "frostbite" at school. It was a fairly nice day with blue skies and temps in the high 60's so it was obvious that was not the case, but I let him tell his story. Apparently his thumb turned gray during lunch and frostbite was determined the most likely cause. All the kids gathered around to look at it and one girl suggested he visit the school nurse. He went to the nurse, who took a look at it and sent him back to class. When Buddy was telling me the story, he finished by saying, "That nurse obviously knows nothing about frostbite."
I tried to ask a lot of questions to figure out more information, but those are all the details he gave me.
Later, G dug some more information out -- that he had cut himself earlier in the day and he had to put a bandaid on the cut. ...And that's when everything clicked. A "gray" shriveled thumb under a soggy bandaid. Frostbite, of course.
Don't you just wish you were the school nurse?!
That day G had packed some leftover olives in his lunch. He also included a lunch note with the following joke and a picture to go along with it. "There were two olives sitting on a curb. One falls off. The other asks if he's OK. The first says, 'I'll live.'"
Buddy is a very literal child, so I asked him if he "got" the note. And this is what he said: "Oh yes, of course I got it. Daddy wrote me that note because he loves me so much. He doesn't want me to fall down and die, but if I do, he knows I'll be resurrected."
It took every single ounce of control I have to not laugh hysterically. Who in the world would over-think an olive joke? (Buddy would, that's who.)
Then he said, "Cause I'll live again. I'll live... olive. Oh. Now I get it."
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