Little boys are so weird. Already obsessed. The 4 year old has begun falling asleep with his hands down his pants. Last night when I tucked him in and rearranged his blankets just so, which meant pulling them all down and starting over, he was down there rubbing away. I said “What are you doing?” And he got so embarrassed. LOL. Poor little kid. It’s like his own personal sleep aid.
Then this morning he was so sick. We all are. I let him snuggle on my lap in the recliner, with my oldest child sitting next to us. I wasn’t dressed yet and had this thin v-next t-shirt on. Next thing I know he’s rubbing my nipple with one finger. “Stop with the nipple rubbing.” I said to him and the 21 year old started laughing hysterically. I think she comes here for the hilariousness of my life.
I think the poor thing is also constipated. For the two days I was truly down and out with the flu, I don’t think his sister made him drink anything. So the husband was going to town for supplies this morning and I asked him to get some Fleet suppositories.
“Where can I find them?” he asked.
“In the poop section.” I answered. “Blue box maybe, they have orange handles. Spelled FLEET..” Seemed pretty clear to me.
“But where’s that?” he asked.
“With the laxatives,” answered the oldest child again.
“Where?” he asked again.
He looked surprised and that’s when the oldest child started laughing hysterically again. “He thought you meant here. You would have a Poop Section Mom. That is so you.”
There is nothing wrong with making sure a person is regular. Next time they ask me for some smooth move tea or want me to look at their turds to see if whole piece of whatever are normal or if I see the face of Darth Vader, I’m going to remind them that pooping is EVERYTHING.