"I'll eat that one...it has mommy juice in it."

Mommy juice. Why we started using that particular term, I'm not so sure, but the kids know not to touch it. I wonder what they think it is, because it takes on different forms...but anyway, there we were, the kids and I, looking through the bag of candy my neighbor had just brought over. He went to Italy last month with his wife and thoughtfully made us a bag of Italian candies. Although I don't think he looked too closely at what he put in it because if he had seen the 'mommy juice' filled chocolate, it would NOT have made it in that bag. Just sayin'. Now I'm not a huge fan of chocolate, so that would explain the look of surprise when I lunged toward the mound my son was unwrapping. It had "Disaronno" fancily typed onto the shiny golden (silver?) wrapping and was decoratively shaped and quite aesthetically pleasing. My sweet kids kind of look at me funny, their eyes questioning my rather uncharacteristic behavior. But once I explained (see above) they seemed a little less confused, albeit a bit more curious. They watched me closely as I took a bite (I wonder what they thought was going to happen), then leaned in to see just what was inside this delicious-looking confection that would cause their normally ambivalent-to-sweets mother to take such an interest in that particular item. I carefully bit the top off so as not to disturb the liquid contents inside. There was actually an audible gasp from my little audience. My oldest inquired first, "What is that stuff?" Mommy juice, I replied. "Can we try some?" asked my youngest. Nope. I then consumed the surprise in one gulp, leaving only the shell of its existence. The kids quickly peered inside, sniffing and looking for traces, but they found nothing. "Can we eat the rest of it?" my darling daughter inquired. Nope. I popped the remaining chocolate covering into my mouth and sat back in, for some strange and inexplicable reason, complete satisfaction. My, I guess I've just been eating the wrong kind of chocolate.

"Please stop barking and answer your sister."

Why do I feel like I've said something eerily similar at some point in the not-so-distant past?? Why would I even need to say that in the first place? And why do kids bark so much? So many things to ponder on this cold and wet day. I think I'll just sit here a bit longer, sip my tea and contemplate the absurdities of parenthood.

Are these images any bigger/clearer?

Strange things you discover around your house when you have kids

This one I found while I was about to put a drawer back in its place. At first I thought, "Oh, that's funny." Then I looked closer and began to wonder what exactly my daughter was trying to convey...

This little gem I just stumbled upon when I walked into my boys' room to look for something. I almost asked my youngest why his shoe was wedged in between books on the bookshelf when I noticed what was inside. But I took a picture instead.

"How can you not remember hitting someone?"

Does that happen? I'm curious. I suppose if you were caught up in a moment of chaos or distraction, it might be possible to forget striking another person, sure. But if you're a sister who was just playing with her brother a moment earlier, probably not. And that same sister running into your room under the guise of just wanting to say hi makes it even less believable. And the little brother following closely behind angrily calling out his sister's name adds to the dubiousness of this claim. So...after very little contemplation I've come to the conclusion that no, her claim of momentary amnesia is not valid and has now, as a matter of fact, added another element to her punishment. Case closed.

"So you lock your kids' up during the day?" "Yep."

Now read that again without the apostrophe. Sounds exactly the same, right? So to someone who might have been standing nearby, inadvertently listening to our conversation, this interchange might come across as a bit, mmm, odd. But in the written form it suggests that there might be something else to it, all because of that cute little punctuation mark. I don't mean to sound nerdy here, but I think we need to take a moment to appreciate the power of punctuation. We've all heard of the somewhat-dramatic-yet-powerfully-accurate slogan, "Punctuation Saves Lives," haven't we? You know the one: "Let's eat grandma. Let's eat, grandma." I mean really, without those little marks we'd be constantly backtracking and explaining just what the heck we meant. But instead, thanks to them, we can freely write down our thoughts without a worry in the world that we might be misunderstood. (clearly I don't mean that at all since I'm constantly explaining myself in this blog). But anyway, you get the point. The gesture. The intention. So there we were, my friend and I, waiting for our kinders to come out after their first day of school today, just chatting about stuff, when we casually had this exchange. We were innocently talking about biking to school...buying another lock since three bikes on one lock was a bit of a stretch...etc. She actually pointed out the humor in it, since I, apparently, have become almost oblivious to the strangeness of parental interactions these days. So perhaps I owe her a thanks as well. Thank you, friend, for appreciating the power of punctuation and pointing out the preposterousness of our parlance.

"It's not a good day for eyeballs, huh?"

You could just hear the kindness in her tone, the empathy with which she uttered these words to her teary-eyed daughter, the patience in how she shared examples of recent poke-age. I'm sure my friend never planned on ever feeling the need to give a shout out to eyeballs, giving them a moment of silence, or even working them sympathetically into a conversation. But, alas, here she was, most seriously referring to them as if they had feelings and needed some well-deserved recognition. Her little girl just nodded at her words and intermittently added to the memories of when my own son got gored with a sword and when her sister poked herself in the eye while trying to move some hair out of her face. It seemed as though once she realized she was not alone in having to temporarily walk around with one eye shut, she calmed down a bit, took a deep breath, and went back outside to play, immediately seeming to forget there ever was a mishap as she gleefully hurdled herself back onto the trampoline.

"Does mommy walk around touching people's privates?"

No - Do I walk around touching people's privates? - No - That's right. We don't do that because we'd get in trouble. Well, that's not the only reason, but that's good enough for now... -

"Think before you touch."

I'll be the first to admit that I've said some pretty ridiculous things in my time as a mother and given some strange advice disguised as gibberish, but I also know when I slip up and say something teetering on the edge of reason and I'll tell ya folks, this is one of those times. I mean, it's genius - it's simple and clear and downright easy to remember. We've all said or heard, at some point in our lives, things like, "Think before you speak," or "Think before you act," but I never thought it would be necessary, by any means, to tell someone that they should take a moment and contemplate whether or not their decision to put their fingers on something would be a wise or a foolish one. But, alas, I had given birth to a boy who would touch absolutely anything, no matter how fragile, sticky, heavy, or disgusting it might be. The proverbial last straw came when we were in the Bahamas. Yes I know, that was only about a month ago and said child just turned 10 so the speed with which this insight came would not win me any awards. But the magnitude of its influence on his future well-being far outweighs the speed with which it arrived. Or at least that's what I choose to believe. So there we were, he and I on the last day of our vacation, taking the sheets off his bed and cleaning up, when it happened...when he touched something that stunned me for a second and left me speechless for even longer. I just stood there looking from him to the offending entity in disbelief, then managed to say something like, "Why would you touch that?!" He, of course, could give no response that would even remotely make me feel any better about what he put his beautiful, innocent, clean hand on. Soon I saw in his eyes the realization of what he had just done and so I proceeded to offer the above words I hoped he would live by for the rest of his life. Yes, it was that gross. As we lifted the bottom sheet off the bed he had been sleeping on for the past 10 days we saw a rather large reddish stain near the upper middle part of the bed, on the side he had slept on. I instantly recognized it as dried blood and immediately made that observation known by saying something like, "Ew, that's dried blood!" My son, for reasons still unknown to me, proceeds to put his hand on the bloodstain and move it around as if to actually be able to feel its presence on his fingertips. And that's what it took for me to have a heart-to-heart with this young man about the importance of thinking before placing one's hands on anything. Then I sent him straight to the bathroom to wash his hands three times. The question of why there was a huge dried blood stain on the bed didn't even occur to me until after we left...

"Well...you can blow and suck."

Ooh, you could just feel the pain in his voice as my husband said these words to our daughter the other day. And the anguished look on his face afterwards screamed out, "I didn't want to say that! I didn't! I feel dirty now." I hadn't really been paying attention to what they were doing - I was busy going through boxes in the garage looking for yard sale items. I happened across a folder full of old papers from college and was, at the moment when I heard the words no parent ever wants to hear uttered to their child, engrossed in an essay analyzing the underlying meaning behind the short story by Samuel Clemens entitled, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County." Riveting. Anyway, I knew my husband had just found his old harmonica - I heard its lovely melody in the background - so I knew that what he said he must have said out of pure necessity and explanation. (although, i must admit, it took me a good 2 seconds to sort out in my head why he was saying such things). So I did what any good wife should do in that type of situation, I laughed. And then I nodded my head, assuring him that he was not, indeed, a pervert, just a good dad trying to explain in easy-to-understand kid terms how to play a harmonica.

"How did lettuce get on your head?"

An innocent question, although I knew there really was no answer. Questions like that come out of my mouth all the time. Honestly, I should certainly know better. But to my defense, we were sitting here, at an airport restaurant waiting for our delayed flight to materialize, when it just slipped out. By the way, we're still here, at the airport, now waiting to see just how much longer our flight can can be detained. We're at about 2.5 hours now, which puts us arriving approximately 72 minutes after our connecting flight leaves. Hmm. Good thing we're in no hurry to get home. No work tomorrow and we've been relaxing in the Bahamas for the past 10 days and are still on 'island time.' No complaints here, believe me. I'll just sit back and wait. And hope the kids remain as laid back as they are now for the next 12 hours, or however long it takes to walk through our front door.

"Mommy, my pee pee turned black."

Wha...what?! What does that mean? I don't even know what to say to that. Did I hear you correctly? Did you just calmly say to me that your penis somehow turned black? Like a fungus? Or you got marker on it? Or you managed to bruise it (is that even possible?!)? All of the previous thoughts came streaming through my brain the instant I heard my almost 10 year old say these extrememly strange and disturbing words to me. I was brushing my hair and he was peeing in the toilet (not sure why I felt the need to specify that part). I froze for a second and just murmured something like, "Um...what did you say?" He repeated his statement and added that it looked like there were fuzzies on it too. OH!!! Now it makes sense - he had just gotten new underwear earlier in the day, black ones, and had been playing outside. Whew, I felt soooo much less freaked out. I explained what it probably was and he just shrugged and said, "Oh, okay," and walked out of the bathroom. I was glad we had gotten to the bottom of what could have been a most perplexing situation. But then I started wondering why he wasn't the least bit shocked...

"Just don't touch strangers."

Or... "Don't frisk any strangers." Or the more panicked... "You're not touching other people, are you?!" Take your pick. The three of us moms happily listened to our girls talk about their 'checkpoint' in the road, glad they were having fun at the campsite and creating beautiful chalk artwork, but were all suddenly and equally concerned when they got to the point where they patted us down. I'm not sure who said what but I know for certain that we all had a moment of great fear. Once they assured us that no actual touching was involved, that they did that only to us for effect, we took a collective deep breath and went on our way back towards the campfire. You can never be too careful, especially when camping...

Be ready to rejoice...

My last post was about Lucy, my friend's niece whose cancer had returned, whose parents were desperately trying to deal with chaos, whose life was hanging by a thread. And this post too is about Lucy, who now can see, whose parents now have renewed strength and hope, whose life now has been given back. If you haven't had a chance to read about this amazing story, here again is the link: erikandkatekrull.blogspot.com (or search "2 Kids, a Mini Van and a Mortgage". While we've been out camping, biking, playing in the water, this family has been going on a wild roller coaster ride that now seems to be slowing down a bit. They are not home free, by any means, but these last 10 days or so have been an incredible lesson in miracles, hope, and faith. Now that I've caught up on their latest adventures, I feel better about sharing our own craziness again. And after 6 days of camping with our own 3 kids, with 3 days together with 2 other families with 3 and 1 kids each, respectively, that's a lot of crazy. (my hubby's a math instructor so all those numbers are a shout out to him). So tomorrow, perhaps, I will relive some funnies from our trip. I will, that is, if I can get the laundry under control, the house back in order and the kids and myself cleansed of the lingering scents of campfires, food, and good ole b.o. Ha, who am I kidding?!

Be ready to cry...

This post is not funny at all, it's not about my kids, it's not full of fluff. It's about a little girl, it's about a family in pain, it's about strength and faith and helplessness. A dear friend from high school has a brother and her brother has a little girl and that little girl is fighting for her life as her mommy and daddy hold her and love her and tell her everything will be okay. As you know, I don't usually post about serious things but I figure that a few extra prayers for this family can only bring good. I've never met this little girl or her mommy but I feel their pain and my heart hurts for them. This story really touched me, maybe because I know half of them, maybe because I have a 5 year old too, or maybe just because. If that's all you need to know, then thank you for a moment of thought and reflection. If you would like to hear the full story, then stop by here: www.erikandkatekrull.blogspot.com ...but have a box of tissues at the ready. (for some reason I can't get the link to link, so if you search for "2 Kids, a Mini Van and a Mortgage" you'll find it) I'm going to go hug my kids now and thank the heavens for our health and return to our end-of-school busyness. Oh, and take a shower.

"Did you hurt your nose on your way upside down?"

Yeah, I'm not even sure what I just said, but it seemed fitting at the time. And my little guy knew what I meant because he nodded slowly and came over for some cuddles. Sometimes it doesn't really matter if you make any sense, (thank goodness), it just matters how you say the gibberish. And that's my lesson for today: don't worry about how ridiculous you may sound, just own those words and work that tone and no one will question what the heck just came out of your mouth.

"Don't touch daddy's hole."

Well I, hmm, yeah. There's not much else to say here 'cause it doesn't really matter what the context was or how it was meant, it still sounds icky. Just trust me when I say nothing gross was going on and the comment was completely innocent. And yes, things will remain in passive voice - it is just better that way.

"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)

"If you stopped playing with yourself maybe you could catch the ball."

True, I bet that would work nicely. You could just hear the frustration in my neighbor's voice as he said these words to his son. As a coach, he has to deal with a lot of strange behaviors from students and he's been doing it for so long that he's probably seen more than his fair share of weirdness. But there's something about your own child doing something that you'd probably let pass with someone else that just gets under your skin and you can't help but want them so badly to stop. So I totally understand where this statement came from. Nevermind the fact that it was our neighborhood kids playing basketball and his son is 6. I guess that just makes it funnier.

"Then just don't eat the fries that taste like coffee."

I must have been zoning out pretty fiercely because this was the only part of the conversation I heard between my hubby and our little man. But it was enough, mind you, to make me chuckle and be intrigued. How did this exchange begin? What brought things to this point and why was my husband not laughing? I suppose I'll just have to content myself with the made up conversation in my head and try and 'stay in the game' next time...or 'put my listening ears on'...or simply 'be all ears.'

"No Transformers in the baking soda."

This, apparently, is a new rule in my house. It's not one of those life lesson rules that gets posted proudly on the wall, but it's still something that needed to be stated. Evidently. Oh well, at least that's now out of the way and I can continue cleaning without further interruption.

"Please take the karate belt off the dog."

I'm kind of taking a break from all the 'don'ts' that I say, just to mix things up a bit. Well, let me clarify: I'm actually taking a break from writing about all of them - I haven't been able to shake that habit one bit. But above is something that I said that could have easily become a negative and I managed to reword things to soften it up a tad. While we have a very patient 13 year old retriever, he still can give us a look that says, "My goodness, would you please give an old dog a break?!" And that was exactly what he was telepathically telling me the other day when my kids were playing around after karate. Yes, he looked funny and yes it was sweet how he was just standing there as if being frozen would somehow make it all go away, but once he looked at me with those big cloudy brown eyes and one doggy eyebrow raised I just couldn't stand there any longer and not do anything. He, of course, would never bark in disagreement or even shake the belt off in annoyance, so I stepped in as his spokesperson and verbalized what I felt he wanted me to say: I know he likes it when you play with him but making him wear silly things might not be the best way to show him affection. Why don't you guys pet him a bit and give him some loves for being so patient. And go ahead and grab a treat for him too.

I know that he understood everything that I had said (it doesn't matter that he's deaf - I'm sure he's great at reading lips) because he gave me a look of gratitude, and then walked slowly to his bed and plopped down in relief. Man I'm gonna miss that guy...

"No naked dance parties."

Wow, I'm that mom. Mrs. Lame-o. The we-can't-do-anything-fun-at-my-house mom. Buzz kill. The prudish, oh so dreaded party pooper. I mean really, what dorky parent would walk into a room where her/his children are supposed to be putting on their snow clothes and sees them all dancing around, in the buff, singing something about Snow, snow, we love to play in snow! and asks the most obvious question ever uttered by a parent, "What are you doing?" and then proceeds to make a blanket statement (see above) after they all respond happily that they're having an impromptu party? Huh?! I'm that fuddy-duddy (yes, I just used that phrase. maybe that, in itself, says enough). And you know what? I'm okay with that.

"Don't cartwheel into the fireplace."

Hmm, this one caught me by surprise. I hadn't imagined this ever needing to be verbalized (although I could probably say that about many things that slip out of my mouth). But, once again, there we were just minding our own business, doing our own thing, when suddenly we find ourselves in a situation where something weird is going on and some adult spurts out some gibberish that makes total sense. This time I was that adult. And I'm proud? surprised? relieved? to say that there was complete understanding from the child and absolutely no reaction from the other adult in the room.

"Don't Cry Over a Cookie."

Sung by my husband to our daughter to the tune of "Don't Cry for me Argentina." I can't even remember the details, and don't really need to - I just know that before kids I wouldn't have predicted this ever happening. But it sure makes me laugh that it did. Oh, and there were more lyrics...too bad I didn't record it.

"Don't shoot people in the pee pee."

Eerily reminiscent of a previous quote about punching oneself in that area. Oh, and another about killing folks and how that isn't a nice thing to do. What can I say - I'm just trying to establish a baseline of some sort and tidbits of truth for my children to recall at a later time.

"Don't take pictures of people naked."

That's really not a good habit to get into at such a young age. I'm not much interested in going into the 'whys' of it all so let's just leave it at this murky level and revisit it at a later time, if necessary.



As I listen to myself talk to my children on a daily basis, I have come to the conclusion that I use the word 'Don't' more than any other word in the English language. I actually try not to; I try and make an effort to focus on what they can do or should do, but sometimes (okay, many times) I resort to a quick "Don't...whatever" because it seems more concise and effective. Whether that's accurate or not, it's true. And so begins the series of 'Don'ts...'

"Mommy's not gonna kill you."

Oops. Honestly, saying that did not seem strange at the time but now, after writing it down, it does seem a bit peculiar. But, as with most crazy things that parents say, taken out of context, it sounds a tiny bit odd, huh? I mean, it's quite a superfluous statement, if you really think about it. But don't really think too much about it. Don't try and figure out what might have been happening at the time these words spilled out of my mouth, it will only confuse you. Or disturb you. Either way, it's an unnecessary use of your precious time. Just assume it was all in good fun and we had a hearty chuckle shortly after I cradled his shaking body in my weary arms. Wait, that came out wrong. Well at least I said I wasn't going to do it. That's something, right?

"I don't like how that dog speaks."

Now I was quite tempted to jump on the nearest high horse and ride off wildly, but after a few minutes of typing and deleting various preachy-sounding words about rudeness and respect and clean humor and kindness, I decided to ditch it all and just say what I was really thinking: That dog was a jerk.

"He has amazing vomit control."

Yeah, I was so impressed by this that I told my hubby about it. Little guy was sick yesterday so we hung out all day while I helped him throw up in the garbage can by the bed. Every time he felt sick he would let me know, lean over and wait for me to hold the can. While that is impressive on its own, you know with him still being 4 and all, what caught my attention was this one particular incident: We were both in bed and I had just started a show for him. He then made his announcement, leaned over and grabbed the can while I walked to the other side of the bed, was about to let loose when he stopped, motioned behind him and mumbled, "Can you pause it?" Taken aback, I processed this for a split second, then turned and paused the show. Once I said "Okay" he proceeded to empty his already empty stomach into the can and managed to somehow get in a "thank you" at some point during the expulsion. Man, I love that little guy! I know I didn't have that control as a kid - sorry mom.

"Roosters can't chew gum."

Any questions? No, I know, but here's the story anyway, just because it has a funny ending:

My youngest got some gum the other day and was in a sharing mood. I got a piece, he set aside one for each of his siblings, joked about giving one to the dog, then decided his rooster needed one. He took a piece and was about to unwrap it when I told him not to. When he questioned why, I said what I said. He then assured me that he wasn't going to give one to a real rooster, just his fake one. Okay, fine. So I watch him talk to his rooster, help it open its mouth and pretend to chew the gum. The rooster then "swallowed" the gum by mistake so my son told it that everything was going to be okay. I continued watching with great curiosity as my little guy gently rubbed the rooster's belly, went through the motions of the gum being digested by the rooster, then propping it up on a box so the rooster could, um, expell the gum. Now, I was pleased that my son knew how digestion worked. However, it was even more entertaining witnessing the whole process done to a stuffed green rooster.

"No, no, no...get your head out of his bottom!"

It's New Year's day. I'm sleepy. I wake up to this message from one of my wonderful friends who has two cuties at home. I'm instantly inspired to see what this new year has in store for all of us who have been blessed with the ability to say the weirdest things with absolutely no hesitation. I don't know the story behind this but I think I'd much rather create one in my head anyway. Cheers, my friend, and Happy New Year!