My Blog Sucks

Well, it seems I have hit the slump. I feel like I have nothing new or interesting to say. Not that those were requirements before, but now even the self-indulgent or narcissistic posts have lost their shine. Not much fodder these days. Maybe it’s because I’ve been sick, or maybe it’s that I’ve been working on some other things, or maybe it’s because the stuff I do think about will probably offend someone somewhere.

Let’s stick with that line of thinking – let’s do offensive and embarrassing today.

There is a child I know that really likes Legos. Not that I’m related to this kid at all. But he happens to love legos and live in my house. Being a boy means that he is in love with his private parts. His mom is one of those moms that felt it necessary to teach him the correct words for all of his parts and the things they do. Which is why we don’t feel sorry for her about all of those times last year when he whisper-yelled during the quietest part of church that he needed to go to the bathroom to deal with his erection. (Those of you that may have witnessed these exchanges can thank me his mom later for keeping church entertaining.) But I digress, back to the boy and his boy parts…………..

It’s bath night. There is the usual running back and forth to the bathroom, ferrying towels, toys and wet children.  Little sister, freshly out of the bath, sits on the floor of the hallway getting her hair brushed by Mom. At the end of the hall, is the bathroom. The door is open, the lights are on, and the boy is playing with cups.  The cups hold his interest for a very short time and he lays down in the water, his body the exact length of the tub.  The water is not very deep, so he can rest with his nose and eyes dry while the rest of his body soaks. He likes the underwater sound. He thinks it’s funny when he hears voices from outside the tub.

Mom notices that her son has disappeared, and jokes that he has scrubbed himself invisible. Little sister thinks Mom is hilarious (which really, she is on most days). The sound of movement from the tub draws their eyes again. There is a foot.  A wrinkly, solitary foot.

“AAAGGGHHH! All that’s left is his foot!”

Ha ha. This brings the house down, and even the tub is laughing a bit.

The foot is replaced by a hand. Just one,  dripping hand. OH NO! He’s lost his entire body. And so on and so forth. As is the case with all things in my this house, things get crass pretty quickly.  The 4th body part is a gleaming white butt,  and Mom makes the classic mistake of letting her children hear her true and real laughter.  She catches herself and says in her mom voice, “No more of that. That’s inappropriate.” Most funny things are. (She doesn’t add that part).

Things settle down. Little sister is all ready for bed, she smells like peaches. Mom tells the boy it’s time to get out. There is still no visible child in the bathtub. Another reminder from Mom. Slowly, something rises from the tub. It appears to be a shriveled up crooked finger. Mom squints. What is that? Eyebrows up, but it’s too late. Little sister squeals, “What’s wrong with  his finger???!!”

From the tub: “That’s not my finger!”

Mom’s laughter drowns out Little Sister’s “Eww a penis!” shrieks. Mom receives many disapproving looks from Dad.

The boy is now mandated to take showers. Bathroom door shut.

The End