My boys were anxious about finding jellyfish in the Gulf again this year. Last year, the population of jellyfish was out of control, and there were at least 4 or 5 within reach everywhere in the water. This year, thankfully, there were none of the pesky critters (although of course this year, I bought divers' jellyfish repellent.)
Nonetheless, my children are inclined to the melodramatic, and require something to complain about. E was in the water, insisting that something was attacking him, and the ensuing conversation boasts some of the most apt dialog for my family ever:
E: Something is stinging me! It's jelly fish, I know it.
M: There are no jellyfish. I think it's time to explain to you what psychosomatic means.
J: Don't bother. I explained it to him yesterday.
That my children would experience psychosomatic ailments, that we would explain said condition to my 7 year old, and that we would attempt to explain it TWICE says a great deal about this family.
I'm feeling especially proud at this moment.
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