"How do you accidentally spit on someone?"

That sure piqued my interest. As I look up, I see my husband and daughter walking in the back door. Then I hear more, "Explain that to me. I don't understand." Then he waits. I couldn't make out her mumbles but clearly they weren't satisfying hubby's desire for an explanation because this is what I hear next, "But you did know you had your mouth open, right? And you did know saliva was coming out of your mouth, right? And you did know he was right under you, right?" (or something similar using a good dose of deductive reasoning that hubby is known for) I couldn't wait to hear how she gets out of this one. I'm ready for her retort (she usually has some good ones) but alas, I must forever be curious because they continue their 'chat' up the stairs. For a split second I contemplate following them. But I know it has nothing to do with me and I can just get the scoop from hubby when he comes back. So as soon as he does, I ask him what she said (anticipating some juicy details). He just looks at me, shrugs his shoulders, says, "Nothing good," and walks back out the door. Sigh.

"I don't want to measure your poop right now."

"Mooooommy, come here please." I walk upstairs and open up the bathroom door. "What's up?" "I just made a humongous poop!" my son exclaimed excitedly. "Good job, buddy." (what else am I gonna say?) "It's so big, you should look at it!" he continues, while holding up his hands to indicate an approximate length. "Oh, no thanks," I politely decline. "Okay, bye." "Wait, how big do you think it is? Can you go get a ruler?" Pause... (um, really? you want me to go find a ruler, stick it in the toilet, then somehow figure out the length of the poop you just made? and then what??) was what went through my mind. However, what came out of my mouth was that matter of fact statement that seemed to bring the whole strange discourse to an end.

"If you do that again I'm going to take your teeth away."

Sounds harsh, but grandma was NOT listening. Oh, I'm joking but I still laugh at the things that parents say to their kids that they could never get away with saying to an adult. It's really quite amazing how we can be carrying on a 'normal' conversation and instantly say something utterly ridiculous, then switch back without missing a beat. Yeah, I'll just say it, we're awesome.

"Your name's not 'Mr. Tushy.' Enough."

You know how sometimes something is funny that you're not supposed to think is funny and you try not to laugh, but you do, and then it turns into the focus of the conversation when what you really wanted was for it to just fade into obscurity? Yeah well that's what happened to me the other day at lunch. The kids were at the table and I was in the kitchen when our little comedian stood up, turned around, and introduced himself (in some accent I had never heard him use before) as Mr. Tushy. He apparently heard this word recently and thought he'd test it out on his siblings. And boy was it a hit. I thought I'd hang back a bit while the laughter died down, but it never did. And that's when it happened. I crumbled. I was weak. I held it in as long as I could but, all of a sudden, out of seemingly nowhere, came an audible chuckle. Honestly, I couldn't help it - he was hilarious! But that was all he needed. I knew I had to get myself together and act quickly before this became a regular routine and he took his show on the road. So I took a deep breath, walked to the table, said those very strange words to my son and sat down. Right next to Mr. Tushy (tee he).

"Get the toilet paper out of your bottom."

Here's how it went down (yuck alert - if you're bothered by poop talk, skip the middle section):

Youngest is working on wiping his own bottom. He prefers to have someone present when he does this (moral support? encouragement?).

Last night, he calls me into the bathroom for the event. He asks me to help him get the toilet paper - he said he always rips it and likes how I fold it. Whatever. It's taken some work to get to this point so a little paper folding isn't a big deal to me.

He goes in for the wipe, and it gets stuck. At first he thinks it's funny. Without even a smirk on my lips, I say what I said. (I will admit, however, that it was pretty funny. The paper was dangling and swaying as he shook his booty back and forth in playful fun).

But then, when he realized that it was staying put, he mini-panicked. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and confused, and said, "It's not coming out!" Calmly, I instructed him to "just pull it out." He then reached back and gave the paper a little tug. It ripped. He looked up again, still concerned, and tried once more. This time it came out - although he wasn't quite convinced. He gave me one more pained look and asked, very sweetly, if I could check to make sure it was all out. Sure buddy. And as I checked the situation, he quietly whispered, "Thank you, mommy," and I just gave him a big hug. Well, as big as I could while he was still perched on the toilet and I was crouched down and over him.

Aah, I love when even the most mundane routines turn into memorable experiences!

"Okay, what else is down your pants?!"

Tee hee. This was said so innocently to my son the other day, but now as I write this I see how it might be taken the wrong way. Although I'm not sure what the right way might be. I suppose there might be an occasion where one might need to know what someone else might have stashed in said person's pants, like, say, the other day when I said this. Hmm, I guess I've answered my own unasked question. Okay then, glad we got that straight.

"Oh don't rub your hair on the wall."

Actually, I think I can expand this to include, well, everything. Honestly, I can't think of a single thing that needs to be rubbed on a wall. Nothing. Maybe there's something out there that might benefit from a good rub on a wall but I've gone through a long list and not one of them qualifies. However, I might be persuaded to narrow the field a bit and state that no body part should be rubbed on a wall. But if there were some object that you felt should, for some reason, make this sort of contact, then I suppose it might be alright if this rubbing occurred. Who am I to judge, right? (weirdo)