So, the other night I was putting out toothbrushes for the kids and listening to them giggle in the next room. Then I heard one of them say to the other one, "OK, now you smell my butt." I rounded the corner to find pretty much what you'd expect: both of them naked and bent over, one presenting and the other inhaling.
This is how I found myself standing in my own home, shouting "No Butt Sniffing" with great vehemence. My two children cocked their heads at me, bemused.
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That really is the bottom of the barrel, in parenting terms. Announcing that something's a rule. That's what I do all day, I make up rules. Don't pee on your sister. No fingers in the butt. Don't break that, don't throw that, don't touch that, don't lick that. (An admonition that is always, invariably followed by: STOP licking
that.) Sometimes I hear a commotion in the next room and I start shouting KNOCK IT OFF and waving my arms in the air, even though I can't see what's going on.
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secretly I'm steeling myself. How grossed out am I prepared to be
right now? How much wine is left in the fridge? And then when I find
them spitting down the necks of the dolls they've behedded, and I
yank the toys away, the kids are truly mystified. Sammie says, "Oh,
all right," which she says just as Elmer Fudd would.
Yep, that's my job around here, bringing the party down.
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