I think it was the Christmas of 2005 (pre-Ben) that Brian and I were window shopping on Main Street in Boerne. We ran across these little snowmen made of out different painted gourds. I commented on how cute I thought they were, and my wonderful, attentive hubby had one tucked away under the tree on Christmas morning!
That year, as we packed up the decorations, I tossed Brian the snowman's box and asked him to label it. To his own amusement (he cracks himself up) he wrote "Gored Snowman" on the box, instead of Gourd Snowman. I probably giggled, but I know I recovered quickly enough to shake my head and roll my eyes.
Now, as I unpack the Christmas boxes each year, I am subjected to Brian's humor. I pull out that box, and I picture what might be tucked away inside: a snowman, stabbed through with a spear, or a tusk, or maybe a pool cue.... I don't know... what would be the weapon of choice for assaulting a snowman? Then I giggle... and shake my head... and roll my eyes.
This year, as I was putting it out, I showed it to Ben. Hey buddy, look at this little snowman. "No, Mom, it's a snowLADY. Look at her eyelashes." Okay, so he's right, it is a snowlady. He walks away, losing interest, then pauses to look back over his shoulder at me and adds, "Actually, it's a squash." I giggled, and shook my head, and rolled my eyes.