Friday, September 7, 2012

French Bidets and Chick-Fil-A

Today was a big day for AB. AB is my friend Sarah’s boy and I watch him during the day because I love torture. It’s not that AB is torture to watch, it’s just that when you have 3 toddler boys running around your house all day it’s a good idea to hide any lighters and ladders. Back to AB. The poor kid hasn’t pooped for 5 day. FIVE DAYS! I mean holy shit! That cannot be comfortable. It’s not that he can’t either, that little ankle biter is holding it in on purpose. So, I caved today and resorted to bribery. I told AB that if he would poop, and show it to me, we could go to Chick-Fil-A.


Don’t fucking judge me:

1. It’s right down the fucking street from the house

2. It has an indoor toddler cage with slides and colorful crap that can keep the ankle biters busy for hours.

3. It’s air conditioned and this is god damned Florida. Some days it’s just to fucking hot to be outside. Have I mentioned the big as bugs and reptiles? And I’m not talking frogs, no; we have poisonous snakes and alligators.

4. My mom always told me NEVER to play with my food, and that includes playing politics.

Back to AB. So, as soon as I make the deal with the devil, he runs to the bathroom and assumes the position. 5 minutes in, he calls me to the thunder box and requests some reading material. 40 minutes later:  

I know its super gross but if you’ve never seen poops, then you have a problem. Call me. We can work out a deal.

It really got me thinking about stupid shit kids do and I realized that I am not an angel. I don't think I ever held my poop in on purpose, but if it would have guaranteed a Happy Meal, I probably would have done it.  When I was growing up, one of my best childhood friends was the girl in the next neighborhood over. Valorie and I were about as dumb and dangerous together as they come.

Me and Valorie and our unfortunate haircuts

Besides setting a field on fire, snow sledding Russian Roulette Style towards an icy river, and tempting our fate with quicksand; there was the Barbie Day Spa. You see, Valorie’s dad owned and plumbing kitchen and bath type store. Their house was all kinds of awesome with a totally decked out basement with one of those rocking horses on springs that if you tried to use today your kids would be taken out of the home and placed with drug dealers because anything is safer than that fucking horse. She also had a really fancy Barbie Day Spa in the upstairs bathroom. For hours we would let Barbie, Skipper, and Ken lounge poolside while other scantily clad Barbie friends brought them cocktails and finger foods. Sometimes the volcano in the middle of the pool would spray them all with a cool mist of water. It was so much fun. Valorie’s older sister would look at us in total disgust and yell at us to stop playing in the bidet. It sounded so exotic, so French, so……. Barbie Day Spa. It was a fucking French toilet. I played for years in a fucking toilet. If my fucking mom and dad had gotten me the fucking barbie dream house that I had begged for this would never have happened, .... maybe.  I admit this only because I now have dumb ass kids and I know that they will probably do far worse things. I also kind of hope it helped build my immune system.

1 comment:

  1. Awesome! I love that refer to the shitter as a "thunderbox!" I am so stealing that!