Laughing can be dangerous to your health

Nolan had a mini-concert tonight.  It was a solo one, and he played and two of his peers had to critique him.  The entire band participated, everyone in different classrooms with set times.  He did his bit, then we listened to two others; then he walked around looking for his buddies and I followed, a respectable distance behind, of course.

I got to put faces to the names I hear him say all the time and that was really nice.  However, he never said anything in regards to me.  Like "____, this is my Mom."

I called him on it as we walked to the car. "Dude.  Do you have a problem with me?"  "No."  "Then why is it you never say, "This is my Mom"? when I'm here with you?"

"Because.  I figure they know already, because you're following me."  I sighed heavily.  "Fine," I said, "I guess I don't mind if they think I'm you're older sister."

"No, Mom.  They'd think you're my younger sister, because I'm taller than you." 

I could hardly argue with that, logic, who needs it?

Once we got home, it was like someone sprayed hyper-dust in the air.  The kids were all wound up. Nolan reminded me that they had a birthday party this weekend. I read the invitation, and one part caught my eye:  "Please leave all jewelry and sharp objects at home." (It's a party at one of those bouncy-house places.)  I cracked up.   "Guys, you know what that means?  No bling, no shanks."  We chuckled together, and were walking down the hallway to repeat the joke to Mr W, when Nolan doubled over, hacking really hard.

As I passed him, I quipped, "Did you cough up anything pink and spongy?" 

"Only my heart,"  he deadpanned.

It was my turn to laugh.  And hack.

Doubled over, gasping for air, yet nonetheless, grinning from ear to ear.

I love that kid.