Tuesday, July 13, 2010

On an Imaginary Pedestal

Aren't little boys supposed to worship their mothers? Put her on a pedestal? Love her first and foremost for the rest of their lives? If this is the case, I'd like to file a complaint.

This morning I came downstairs to find my husband and two youngest sons on the couch. Dear husband had trouble sleeping in the night due to the unabashed rapid ingestion of too many Salt and Pepper chips last night. Anyway, he was on the couch when the boys came down. They proceeded to snuggle with dad and watch a movie.

Then I came downstairs.

Rhett (3): "Hi Mom!"
Me: "Hi Baby! Why are you sleeping on the couch (to Ryan)?"
Ryan: "Couldn't sleep."
Reese (6): "Mom there's poop on the floor over there. I think it's Toby's but Rhett says it's his."
Me: "What?!"
Reese: "There's poop over there and Rhett says it's his."
Me (looking at poop that clearly did not come out of child's body):"It's not Rhett's."
Me (to Ryan): "You just laid there when there is poop over there?!"
Ryan: "I didn't know it was there."
Me, in quiet inside voice: Fuck.

So there you have it. My pedestal is apparently reserved for cleaning up poop. Perhaps my pedestal is made out of poop. Clearly, the clean, non-poop designated pedestal belongs to my husband.


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