My kids are weird. I mean, all kids are weird. But my twin boys are really weird sometimes (so is my daughter, but that’s a subject for another day).

Interacting with my sons is like finding out there’s an entire conversation going on that I was completely unaware of (and sometimes that is literally what is happening). They have all sorts of games and inside jokes that I don’t get, and I don’t know if it’s a twin thing? A 6-year-old boy thing? Both? Neither?

Take, for example, this incident from a few months ago. I had given Jack his bath, and he was playing the unescapable Minecraft game on the computer while I bathed Charlie. As Charlie got out of the tub and was wrapped in his towel, we had this exchange:

Me: Charlie, stop watching the bathtub drain and get dried off.

C: I can’t, I’m waiting for Jeff to appear.

Me: What? Who’s Jeff

C: He’s Jeff. He shows up at the end of every bath. *stares intently at the drain*

I was starting to get spooked. Was this like the time my daughter told me she saw a dark figure in our room and not to talk to it? Was this like all those ghost stories people tell that involve kids? Was this like that creepy bathtub lady in The Shining (please don’t let this be like the creepy bathtub lady in The Shining).

My skin was crawling and I was ready to have Alexa add sage to the shopping list so I could burn it throughout the house, when Charlie bent over the tub and exclaimed, “Oh look there he is!!!”

I looked down at where my son was pointing. At the tub drain, with the water swirling down it.

Me: …is…is Jeff a whirlpool?

C: *looking at me like I’m the biggest idiot* Um, yeah? It’s Jeff. Jeff the Whirlpool, mom. *turns his attention back to the tub* Hey Jeff! Good to see you again buddy!

As if right on cue, my other son came barrelling into the bathroom at breakneck speed. “IS JEFF BACK I LOVE THAT GUY”

I mean. What do I even say to any of that.

A few days of bathtub whirlpool sightings ensued, and then more time went by and I realized about a month later that I hadn’t heard any Jeff updates lately. I figured he was a delightful moment of childhood whimsy, relegated now to memory. It’s cute that I thought that, knowing my kids.

One day driving home from school, Charlie mentioned hanging out with Gary. Which wouldn’t be that weird except that, as I mentioned earlier, he’s six. The probability of a six-year-old named Gary in this day and age seemed somewhat remote. Which begged the question: who the f@&! was Gary and why was he hanging out with a bunch of 6 year olds and why wasn’t the school taking any action.

Me: *act casual, act casual, be cool* Soooo….Charlie…who’s Gary?

C: *annoyingly nonchalant* Oh you know. He’s Gary.

Jack: *piping up from the backseat* Good ole Gary!

Me: Wait, you know Gary too??

J: Of course. Everyone knows Gary.

Me: HOW DOES EVERYONE KNOW GARY. WHO THE EFF IS GARY.

C: *exasperated* Geez, Mom. Calm down. Gary is the whirlpool in our school drinking fountain.

Long pause.

Me: Gary is a whirlpool? Like Jeff?

J: Whirlpool Gary…love that guy.

C: Classic Gary.

Me: *goes home and drinks all the bourbon*

Whirlpool Jeff and Whirlpool Gary are just two examples of how weird my sons are. And they’re only six. What will the years ahead bring, and how am I going to survive it if I can’t handle the introduction of two imaginary whirlpools without visualizing creepy ghosts or child predators.