You know, people say that boys are gross, but unless they have boys, they have no idea. Boys are gross. On an unimaginable level. Where after some interactions with my young sons, I feel the need to shower, take some Dramamine, and go to confession. And they're only 4 and 6.
Here's just a snippet of gross that I dealt with today:
Me: "Calen, go get a sponge, get it wet, and go scrub all those boogers off your wall above your bed!"
Calen wasn't even phased by how this is gross, and went to do it. Then came downstairs.
"Mom! I got some of the boogers off but some are REALLY stuck on there and I couldn't get them all off by using my fingernails. Can I have a knife?"
So he took a butter knife and chiseled boogers off his effing wall. This is no less than the third bedroom he's had where he's had to do this.
You know those new Clorox Bleach Commercials? Like This one? They should hire my kids. And give me the profits. Because I deserve it. And I need to buy bleach.
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Later, I sent them to the playground within 50 yards of our house. Cam has gotten in a lot of trouble at the playground lately, so before he walks out the door, he goes:
"Mom, I won' go in other people's houses and I won' pee on the pwaygwound an I won' pull my pans down and show my butt to anyone. Pwomise!"
...And what the hell exactly do you even say in response to that?
"Umm.....good?"
And of course we can't forget Calen's latest new favorite word: "balls". Which we didn't teach him, thankyouverymuch (I don't waste my swear words around the kids on a word as stupid as balls), but I'm sure spending his days around first and second grade boys, he's picking up all sorts of new weekly vocabulary words. So now if he stubs his toe he goes "Oh my balls!!!!" Which of course immediately gives me a chemical reaction that causes my eyeballs to pop out of my head and my inner Monster-Mom voice comes out.
"WHAAAT did you say?!"
"Ummm....nothing!"
And then I asked him if he even knew what balls are, and he goes "Uhhh, my weiner?" And that's the moment where you just turn around and walk away, because God forbid you correct him, and he has a new gross body part to laugh about to his friends. Nope.
The only good thing about this new disgusting mode my kids are in is that Brad and I have a new game when he comes home, called the "Guess what came out of the kids' mouths today!" game.
Unfortunately I've been informed that they don't outgrow this until never. The fact that I live with a 30 year old man confirms this.
Obviously, no picture today. Because ewww.
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