That’s right, I’m giving away another (as yet undetermined) prize, to the first person who can guess what happened in this series of photos. Hint: The Baby did it. And Peanut knew he was doing it. And it’s completely fucking disgusting.
So, you tell me the story, in comments.
Moon: Do you want to play Wii?
Neighbor boy who’s sleeping over: Let’s play Madden.
Moon: Ok, I’ll get it set up.
Me: Just so you know, at nine o’clock, the TV is mine.
Moon: Why?
Me: Because I want to watch a show.
Neighbor boy: Is it the Old Reilly Factor?
Me: The what?
Neighbor boy: The Old Reilly Factor?
Me: Oh! Ah, no. It is not the O’Reilly Factor.
Neighbor boy: Oh, my mom always watches that.
Me: Huh.
They say you never know what goes on behind closed doors, but I had no idea that degree of depravity existed just two doors down. Scary.
Peanut, at playground: Mom! These kids who were just speaking Chinese said something bad about me because I know Chinese and I know what they said!
Me: Really? You know Chinese?
Peanut: Yes. And I know what they said. They just called me stupid!
Me: How do you know they called you stupid if they were speaking Chinese?
Peanut: Because! The were just speaking, like, Chinese, or French, and they called me stoo-pee-dee.
Me: Chinese or French, huh? Well, if they’re not being nice maybe you should find someone else to play with.
Peanut, storming across playground toward kids who were speaking Chinese, or French, and pointing his finger: You think I’m stupid? Maybe you should take some classes and learn to speak English!
Me, momentarily frozen with shame and horror, then running toward Peanut in a flustered frenzy: No! No! You apologize right now! That is not appropriate or nice. Unacceptable. Apologize. Now!
Peanut, kicking the ground and mumbling: Sorry.
Me: Peanut, these kids know how to speak two languages. How many do you know?
Peanut: One.
Kid 1: We speak Italian and English.
Kid 2, under breath: Stupidi.
Me: See, they speak Italian. Maybe if you were playing nice together you could ask them to teach you some words in Italian.
Kid 1, nodding: We could. We speak Italian all the time.
Peanut: I don’t need to. I know “stupid” in any language.
Me: Did you remember everything?
The Babysitting Goddess: Yep. All packed up. But, is it ok to have a blowdryer in my carry-on?
Me: Yes, blowdryer is fine. You just can’t have any liquids over three ounces in your carry-on.
Peanut: Or dynamite.
Peanut, standing naked in front of The Babysitting Goddess…
Me: So, I see you’re not worried about The Babysitting Goddess seeing your penis anymore.
Peanut: No. She already saw it.
Me: Did she think it was any big deal?
Peanut: No. She was just surprised.
Me: Surprised?
Peanut: About how small it was.
At the beginning of a spontaneous road trip to a super fun indoor water park:
Me: Who’s the best Mom in the whole world?
Moon: I dunno.
Peanut: Not you.
Me: What in the heck are you talking about? I’m taking you to a super fun indoor water park for no reason at all. Who’s the best Mom in the world?
Peanut: Not you.
Me: Who’s a better Mom than me? Name one person!
Peanut: Grandma Mouse.
Me: Ha! Hardly. Do you know what Grandma Mouse used to give me for dinner?
Peanut: What?
Me: Shit on a stick. Try again. Who’s a better Mom than me?
Peanut: Well, I know it’s not Dad’s Mom, because she tried to hit him with a frying pan when he was a kid.
Moon: Dad says that story’s not true.
Me: Oh, no. Totally true. Grandma is definitely not a better Mom than me, either. Try again.
Peanut: Bobby’s* Mom is better than you. She hardly ever yells.
Me: What?! Bobby’s Mom is batshit crazy! I mean, truly, certifiably, insane. She’s not a better Mom than me. Try again.
Peanut: I don’t know who the best Mom in the world is. The only thing I do know is that it’s not you!
Sitting in the ER with Peanut because Moon got angry and kicked Peanut in the hand. It looks like Peanut’s finger may be broken. People in front of us include a man who cut his hand with a power tool, a man who got hit by an opening car door while riding his bike, and two women in labor:
Peanut: Mom, why aren’t they calling us back yet?
Me: We have to wait our turn.
Peanut: But why are all these people in front of us?
Me: Because they’re all injured.
Peanut: But Mom, I need to go in front of them. My injury hurts!
Sitting in a room in the ER, waiting for X-Ray results:
Me: I spy, with my little eye, something wiggly and small.
Peanut: My penis?
Upon learning that his finger is actually broken:
Peanut: Ooh, Moon is DEAD! Mom, what are you going to do to him?
Getting his finger splinted:
Me: Why are you crying? It’s not that bad.
Peanut: This is terrible!
Me: What?
Peanut: Now I can’t thumb wrestle!
Waiting for discharge papers, admiring his splint:
Peanut: Mom, when my finger is all healed, do I have to give this splint back?
Me: No, you get to keep it.
Peanut: Mom, I don’t know this for sure, but when someone gets out of jail, I think they get to keep the handcuffs.
Me: No they don’t.
Peanut: Have you ever been to jail?
Me: No.
Peanut: Then you don’t know that for a fact.
Later, at dinner, for some reason discussing porcupine penises:
Me: Who has a bigger penis, Peanut, you or a porcupine?
Peanut: Moon!
In the car on the way home from dinner:
Peanut: When I grow up, I’m probably going to be a retard.
Me: Why do you say that?
Peanut: Well, because when I was, like, six and five and four, I was retarded. So, I’ll probably be a retard when I grow up, too.
Sign outside of store in Isla Verde, Puerto Rico:
Peanut: Mom, what’s Condom World?
Me: A store.
Peanut: What do they sell?
Me: Stuff you don’t need to know about.
Peanut: Like what?
Me: Just stuff.
Peanut: Tell me, Mom. What is it? What do they sell?
Me: Umm….underwear.
Peanut: No they don’t. What do they sell at Condom World.
D: Condoms. They sell condoms. You know, like ketchup, mustard, mayo…..
Moon: No, that’s condiments.
Peanut: Mom. Tell me! What do they sell?
Me: Dad’s right. They sell stuff to put on your hotdog.
Peanut: Hey, Mom. In Puerto Rico, they have lots of Coquis. That means frog.
Me: They do?
Peanut: Mmhmm. And they also have these fancy masks that they use to go Trick or Treating every night.
Me: Um, really?
Peanut: Yep.
Me: How do you know so much about Puerto Rico?
Peanut: Spanish class.
Me: Huh. You learned all that in Spanish class?
Peanut: Yep.
Moon: You did not. You’re just making that up. You don’t really know about Puerto Rico.
Me: Moon, you don’t know that. He has Spanish class. You don’t know what he’s learned.
Moon: Mom, he’s just making that stuff up.
Me: Stop it. You don’t know that. If he says he learned about Puerto Rico, I believe him.
Peanut: Hey, Mom. Can we go bowling or something?
Me: You want to go bowling in Puerto Rico?
Peanut: Mmhmm. Because in Puerto Rico they bowl with coconuts.
Me: What is that smell? Something smells like poop in here.
Moon: I dunno. I don’t really smell anything.
Me: Come here. Let me smell you. When is the last time you showered?
Moon: Last night.
Me: You did not.
Moon: I mean the night before that.
Me: No you didn’t. We got home late and you went to bed.
Moon: Well, it was definitely the day before that.
Me: That’s gross. You need to start bathing or you’re going to be the stinky kid.
Moon: Meh.
Me: Do you think you’re going to like girls someday?
Moon: Mo-o-om…I don’t know.
Me: Well, girls don’t like boys with bad hygiene. Start bathing. Stinky.
Moon: Mom, when I start liking girls I’ll worry about showering. But that day is not today.
