The brutally honest things little kids say can be pretty darn cute. We’ve all had the “aww, sweetie- you’re right- it DOES smell like a rotten butthole!” moments, we’ve even laughed at the slightly embarrassing ones, like the times they announce we have a giant booger hanging from our nose, or that our pants make our butts like gigantic, but there is a line, my friends. A very thin one, where our adorable mini-humans cross from adorably honest to horrifyingly honest, and if you don’t realize that line has been crossed- it can have dire consequences.
This line crossing usually occurs right when the brain, vocabulary, and sassiness all finally meet up inside of them and explodes- but it can, will, and does sneak up on you! THE TRIFECTA! I think that is mostly because we’re in complete denial that our kids are growing up fast enough to be wildly inappropriate and the only way to accept it is with sheer humiliation. My husband is learning this lesson the hard way.
He is NOT going to like me telling you this story, but it’s like I always say- no matter how embarrassing, if others can learn from it- the tale must be told! THINK OF THE PEOPLE, THOMAS!!! This is for educational purposes, and NOT to laugh at him. Nope. Not one little bit for humor. Let’s just not tell him this blog exists, y’know… just in case there’s a little laughter at his expense.
I’m not a “naked” person; as confining as I find pants to be, I don’t sit around without them to up my comfort level- I enjoy clothes. I like to shop for them, look at them, and wear them. All the time. When it comes to my kids, though, all bets are off! Those two were pushed out of my vag, they can handle a little nudity on my part. And Thomas? Why would he care? They have the same parts, no big deal!
We’ve had a few awkward conversations due to nudity over the years, and the kids are no longer allowed in the bathroom with me while my uterus is shedding because never again do I want to be asked why I have a cotton tail, but for the most part, the nakedness has been pretty uneventful. Unless you consider the fact that the boys (the little ones) STILL have naked dance parties because they think shaking buttcheeks is hilarious an event.
I don’t know why we didn’t expect that all this nakedness would activate the trifecta permanently; I don’t know why we didn’t pick up on the hints (hello? cotton tail???), but the rope has been cut with the big golden scissors. We are in permanent embarrassment zone, and no longer is it adorable or accidental. It is cold and calculated, and inflicted at the worst possible times with the precision of professionals. My memory might suck, but I don’t think Thomas will forget that fact after this morning.
It’s all pretty fuzzy to me because I am NOT a morning person and I was still groggy from having my bed taken over at 6am, ruining that last amazing hour of sleep we parents rely on- so as I was getting the boys’ shoes on so we could drop Holden off at school, somehow everyone started making up songs, and somehow, not at ALL my fault, the song turned into the size of their daddy’s butt. WHAT?! IT’S BIG! Anyone with eyes can see that! I never said I was a good influence!
That was when it happened; Holden was not satisfied with the Daddy’s got big-ol’-butt song.
“WHY DON’T WE SING A SONG ABOUT DADDY’S PECKER AND HOW IT LOOKS LIKE A LION?”
Dead. I was dead.
Line officially crossed. The kids howled with laughter as Thomas mumbled “it’s not funny” under his breath. Purposeful embarrassment; things will never quite be the same. At this point, I’m glad I never got comfortable pants-less, because I truly don’t need to hear the truth about my parts and what they may or may not look like!
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