Parenting and family, served with a shot of vodka
I was in a funk most of today.
The day had so much potential to get worse during the dreaded Witching Hours of 4-7 p.m. (For those of you who don’t have children, that’s the time frame when munchkins everywhere Lose Their Freakin’ Minds, providing the best and most efficient birth control in the world via whining, arguing and general jackassery.)
But every once in a great while, there are nights when this doesn’t occur. Amazingly, this phenomena happened to coincide with my tough day.
While I made dinner, they went downstairs to play with the toy kitchen. Without fighting. They kept bringing me different healthy meals, tea parties, desserts and the like, made from scores of pretend food that resides in the plastic kitchen.
Then Superhero came up with a basket full of barbecue-type vittles. Empty-handed, Sweet Pea, 4, trailed behind him, and said, “I made you a fruit salad!”
“Yummy!,” I said. “Where is it?”
“It’s in my pants!,” she said proudly, hands on hips.
My eyes dropped down to her hot pink leggings, and I laughed my ass off. With a big smile, these are the items she removed from her pants.
All of the sudden, what was happening clicked in 7-year-old Superhero’s head and he also started cracking up. “(Sweet Pea), your fruit salad actually looks like a penis!”
Of course, when it comes to inappropriate behavior, bigger is better. So they headed back downstairs to make me a few other meals in her britches. Thankfully, the penis was quickly forgotten as the dinner in her pants became bigger…
…and bigger, until Superhero decided she looked like a football player.
This took us right up to dinner time, which they both ate and enjoyed despite the fact that it came from the stove instead of my jeans.
Thanks for being silly and inappropriate and awesome, tots. You turned my frown upside down. I love you times ten million.