pushing it

This morning I called Stupid Daddy into the bathroom to look at the turd one of our cats had just deposited into the litter box. It was ten inches long, I swear.

The boys, who were having breakfast in front of a cartoon, dropped their spoons into their cereal and came running.

"I wanna see!" they said. "I wanna see!"

And so the four of us crowded into the bathroom, stood over the litter box, and marveled.

I just love those moments when I can bond with my boys over grossness. It's as if they're registering that I'm not really the killjoy I appear to be so much of the time, like yesterday, for example, when I found them at the picnic table on our front porch, attempting to dissect the dead mole our other cat had dropped on our front walk a few days ago by pressing the very dull blade of a Swiss Army knife into its middle, and wouldn't allow it.

Today, we all laughed together, and I was a cool mom once again.

And then I farted on Levi's head!!!!

Oh, wait. Wrong audience. I didn't really do that. Never mind.