So I’m on the computer today in the kitchen. That would be The Boy’s computer. He told me this himself. Had he also told me where his brother hid my laptop, I might have let him right back at his pbskids.org games. Instead I was trying to do accounting type things on the computer because for whatever reason that computer is the only one with Excel.
What I didn’t realize is that the boys got hungry and helped themselves to a bag of dried fruit. A Costco-size bag of dried fruit. I estimate they ate about 10 oz. a piece of a mango, apricot and PRUNE medley.
Warning. Crass conversation ahead.
The Boy: Mom. Pee just shot out of my butt.
People, I have three sisters. Growing up we referred to bodily functions such as these as No. 1 and No. 2. No lie. My kids barely know their ages so the number thing was out. Now I’m forced to have conversations that include words like pee, fart and poop. What. the. hell.
K: Ethan. Technically that is not pee. I think you might be sick now that you ate that half of a bag of dried fruit that you stole from the kitchen cabinet when Mom was trying to focus on her 2009 goals for world domination in the Smart Ass Tee department. Where’s your brother?
I didn’t even need to ask. I could smell him from about 20 miles away. We spent the better part of the afternoon and evening running between two bathrooms. I’m sorry. Did I fail to mention that yesterday The Baby decided he was going to potty train himself. He made it 24 hours before needing a new diaper and then all bets were off as his ass nearly exploded every 30 minutes after that. They both offered to share the toilet at the same time but a mother has to have limits at some point.
After about the 11th trip to the lav, I began to wonder why anyone would ever pay for a colonic. It can’t be cheaper than a $4.85 bag of dried fruit.