I should know by now that when my four year old says, “Mom! You have got to see this!” It usually means a trip to the bathroom. I then find myself making sufficient comments about how impressed I am and he usually responds with, “I poop-ded HUGE!” I nod my head and give him a poop cookie.
You know those Little Debbie brand oatmeal deals with the cream in the middle? Those are poop cookies. Called so because they originated as a reward for when my now seven year old first learned to poop on the potty. Now everyone calls them poop cookies. Even my parents and they live 2500 miles away.
At the grocery store I purposely drive past the Little Debbie display very slowly so that my four year old can yell, “CAN WE BUY POOP COOKIES!?” at the top of his lungs while he practically sproings out of the cart. It makes me laugh every single time because I am a twelve year old trapped in a thirty-three year old’s body.
Other things that make me laugh?
When my son looks up from playing transformers and randomly declares, “Mom, spider eggs are almost like noodles.” Or when my daughter gives my sick boy his favorite stuffed gorilla and says, “oh, he’s so happy because he’s playing with his monkey!”
Yes. It makes me laugh. It makes my husband roll his eyes and pretend he doesn’t know me, which makes me laugh harder.
Because I’m twelve.
1 comment:
You know it's a funny post when it causes me to literally laugh out loud at work. Yes, I DO want a poop cookie!
Thinking we need to start this tradition with Gabi when we get there. OH.MY. So funny.
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