The other night, Gracie began shrieking in the living room. She came to find me 3.4 seconds later, with Bean right on her heels, ready to defend himself against his accused crimes.
“BEAN TOOK MY TOY!” she squealed.
“Where’s her toy?” I asked Bean.
His eyes grew as wide as saucers. No response.
“Bean,” I said, more firmly. “Where is Gracie’s toy?”
Wide eyes. No response.
Finally, Gracie had had enough. “IT’S RIGHT THERE!” she screamed, pointing to Bean’s crotch. Sure enough, he fished out an Elsa Magical Winter Wand from his pants. (Don’t even get me started on all the funny, inappropriate jokes that come to mind when a dude pulls a magic wand out of his pants…)
Later that night, the kids ran ahead of me up to the bathtub for bath time after dinner. They like to play in the empty bathtub sometimes while I’m cleaning up dinner, so that wasn’t too strange. The strangeness kicked in when I came up the stairs about five minutes later. The minute the kids heard me coming down the hall, the bathroom door slammed shut.
Well, that’s odd.
When I opened the bathroom door, I found the two of them in the bathtub. Bean had peed ALL. OVER. THE. PLACE. And I do mean ALL OVER in ways that only boys could do. And there were my two kids, sitting in the pee that was running down the bathtub.
Now, I shrieked. (Where do you think Gracie gets it from?!)
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?! WHY DID YOU DO THAT, BEAN?!?! YOU ARE FILTHY NOW! HOW OLD ARE YOU?!?!” etc., etc., etc.
Apparently, my shrieking drew the attention of my hockey hibernating husband because he pulled himself away from the Rangers playoff game long enough to come upstairs and make sure I didn’t kill the children. He helped me bathe the kids, and then he took them to put jammies on while I cleaned the rest of the bathtub.
As we passed each other in the hallway, I whispered angrily to him, “You need to talk to Bean about his… you know…” I said, gesturing south of the belt line. “He shoved a toy down his pants earlier and now this!”
Chris just rolled his eyes. “Oh, leave him alone,” he laughed. “Wieners are fun!”
Wieners are fun. THAT’S my life partner. THAT’S the man I have pledged to love, honor, and cherish. THAT’S the father of my children.
Wieners. Are. Fun.
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