Where The Money Is At

My 3 year old crawled up next to me on the couch. He had his favorite blan­ket with him and asked me if we could cuddle.

“Cud­dle me, Mommy?” 

I said “Sure!” 

Because how could I deny my sweet D-man?

Then I real­ized his adorable sweet­ness hid a truly devi­ous plan.

You see, I thought we were shar­ing a sweet moment.  A Hall­mark moment.  The kind pic­tured in com­mer­cials, in mag­a­zine spreads and all things that make us mere mor­tals feel like we will never be per­fect moth­ers because our moments NEVER look like those moments!!!  And I thought…aha! I have done it, I am hav­ing finally hav­ing that moment.  The per­fect moth­er­hood moment.

But as we cud­dled under the blan­ket it became clear to me this was no glossy lay­out moment with man­u­fac­tured moth­er­ing per­fec­tion.  No, it was real moth­er­hood. Because he began to, hmm,  how to put this del­i­cately? Well, there is no del­i­cate way to say it.

He began to let ‘em rip.

Yes, he began to pass the worst gas pos­si­ble next to me. Not once. Not even twice. But mul­ti­ple times. Worse still.  Each time he did it, he laughed.  He laughed and laughed and laughed some more.  He had a twin­kle in his eye the whole time.

Oh, man it was gross.

So totally gross.

But I must admit I couldn’t help but laugh.  It was gross, it was not a per­fect Hall­mark moment but dang that kid is some­thing else.  He can make even the gross­est thing in the world make me laugh.

Yep, he still knows where the money is at. It is in the poop & fart jokes.

Tagged as: children, humor, life, Momma, motherhood