The family is in the girl's bedroom. It is bedtime. I am laying down Ellie in the crib. Emma is getting her pajamas on as Abbie picks up the toys off of the floor.
"It smells like a dirty little boy's room in here tonight." Abbie exclaims, even though it probably is her sixth grade classroom scent clinging to her sweater.
Without a beat Emma turns around to me and asks, "Did you fart?"
I wish I could keep all of these little instances locked in my brain. I know I only retain about five percent of the constant humor that is swimming with me. For instance, I got "informed" that Emma had been saying, "chicken butt" all day at preschool earlier this week.
Apparently, "chicken butt" is now offensive, or at least at a preschool.
"Why would she be saying that?" you might wonder.
Well, it all goes back to when that movie star brat was popular with the Home Alone films and he hosted Saturday Night Live. (I am not going to give him the credit of typing his name, plus I don't want to have to check how to spell it.) Anyways, he was in Al Franken's, "Stuart Smalley" skit where Al is "not a licensed therapist. . . but has attended many twelve-step programs" and would give advice to successful people. This one skit the kid would constantly ask Stuart, "You know what?" and Stuart would say, "What?". Then the boy would say, "Chicken butt!"
There you go. Well, it stuck with me, and now it is living, breathing, growing through my offspring.
And do you know why?
Chicken Thigh.
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