Friday, September 18, 2009

It must be a guy thing.

This morning, as per usual, Jack was sitting on the couch in his underwear watching cartoons.

Jack: Mommy, can you come and snuggle with me on the couch?
Me: Sure, let's get you dressed and then we can snuggle.
Jack: No! I don't want to get dressed first. I like to snuggle without my clothes on.
Me: Ok, I'll sit with you for a moment but then we need to get you dressed.
Jack: I just like to snuggle with no clothes on. It feels so much better to snuggle with no clothes.

Why does this line of thinking sound so familiar??? Hmmm....

Monday, September 14, 2009

One of my most vivid memories is of the first time I heard my mother swear. I was probably 9 or so and she was on the phone with a friend. She stood in front of the microwave chatting away and happened to drop her chili dog on the ground. "SHIT!"

I gasped loudly and remember being shocked. It was my first indication that I recall of her being human and not angelic.

Almost 30 years later, with a daughter of my own, I've had my moment...

Megan: Mom, why can't I say (whispering)...crap?
Me: Because it's not a nice thing to say and you can think of something smarter to say.
Megan: But you say it.
Me (lying through my teeth): I do not!
Megan: Yes you do. I read it on a text message you sent Daddy.
Megan: So why did you say you don't say it when you do?
Me: Uh, well...uh... Because parents are supposed to lie to you about that stuff.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

It doesn't get much more disgusting than this

Jack and I have a ritual of sorts. Every night, we head upstairs, brush teeth, go to the bathroom, I tuck him in, snuggle with him for just a minute, and I head downstairs. I settle in to watch TV and then wait...because I know sometime between 1-10 minutes later, I'll hear his door open, hear the pitter-patter of his little feet, hear nothing for a moment or two, and then this- "Mom? Can you come wipe my bottom??"

It is then that I head up the stairs to do my motherly duty. And I must say, he makes it easy for me. He waits patiently for me to appear and he's usually in a stance that most Yoga enthusiasts refer to as The Downward Dog.

Last night was a bit different. Instead of yelling for me to wipe his bottom, he yelled, "I've got diarrhea!!!"

I reluctantly headed upstairs to find him still sitting on the toilet, holding his hand out to me. When he saw me he said, "I know I have diarrhea because when I touched my bottom, it felt like chocolate pudding."