The Clown

Last year, Max told me he wanted to go to clown school when he grew up. I wasn't the least bit surprised. I would expect nothing less from my little John Candy incarnate.

Being a supportive parent, I told him that I had no problem with clown school. My only stipulation was that he needed to be able to make enough money clowning, to move out of the house and support himself. After some careful thought, he decided he had really only wanted to go so he could learn the correct way to throw a cream pie. He asked if he could have a whoopee cushion instead of clown school. I bought him 2 whoopee cushions.

For Chanukah, we usually give Ben and Max presents that they have to share. This year we also gave them each a present that was strictly theirs. Ben opened his present first and was thrilled to have gotten a brand new deluxe ATM (his old one had been on the fritz). Ben is a Donald Trump clone so I knew he would love it. Max watched Ben and said that he had wanted an ATM also. I told him that was baloney, and to open his present. He unwrapped a practical joke book complete with fake vomit, a roach, bloody finger and farting putty. He turned to me and exclaimed, "This is way cooler then a stupid atm! Why would anyone even want an ATM if they could have this?! " Needless to say, I'm still picking the fake roach off my pillow on a daily basis.

Max may still decide to go to clown school one day and have Ben financially support him. That's fine with me. After all, clown school tuition has got to be much cheaper then college.