Remember how sick I was yesterday? Well, today I put on my “day clothes,” as my kids call them, and headed out to the boy’s preschool parent/teacher conference. [Insert merited applause here]. I prayed that I wouldn’t crap in my pants and would like to thank Baby Jesus for hearing me. #Success.
Until…
Teacher: I’m glad to hear you’re feeling better.
Me: Thank you! But how did you…Oh no.
When he got home, I asked my blonde angel what, JUST WHAT, information had he bestowed upon his teacher. In a nutshell:
“Oh I just said that you were re-yee,Β re-yee (really) sick. You were pooping and it was stinky and Dad said, ‘Turn on the vent in that bathroom!’ And you were using Ella’s wipes because your bum hurt. And you vomited and it was gross–you didn’t even eat dinner with us.”
Just when I think I’m the queen of Oversharing, here comes this pint-sized punk to trump me. That’s okay, though; live it up buddy, mommy has pee-pee pictures she plans to show your prom date.
As an aside: I’m sitting in the bathtub as I type (unsafe but necessary, for obvious reasons…), and here comes the boy to interrupt. His initial reaction to finding me? “You know we don’t poop in the bathtub.”
HA
I figured you’d appreciate this!
There are no secrets for my family with my two. No ma’am. My kids tell all. When I had my birthday, my son walked right into church and announced “My Mom is 38! Oh, it’s her birthday…” If I ever get deathly ill I’m sure all details will be shared with the world.
I’m impressed he said vomit!
Yeah, I should know better by now! My son’s aptitude for remembering and repeating things (hence the word vomit) really does leave me in a precarious situation π
He gets that from his uncle!
I’m pretty sure he gets the extensive vocabulary from his mother, but I’ll give you the memory part π
Oh no!! My son is the oversharer in our family. If there is anything I remotely think he might share and I don’t want him to share with his class I tell him “let’s keep this to ourselves.” I then worry that he is going to class saying “Mommy wants me to keep what happened last night a secret.” It’s truly a no win situation!!!
My Mother-in-Law used to tell my husband and his brother, “This doesn’t leave the table, okay?” when they discussed personal things. It always worked for them; maybe I should try that?! But you’re right: the next announcement would just be: I CAN’T TALK ABOUT THIS BECAUSE IT CAN’T LEAVE THE TABLE. Yoi π
This is one of those posts where I’m always reluctant to click “like”–cause, you know, I don’t want you to think I *like* that you’ve been sick… π I remember having to coach my kids to when they started getting into answering the telephone to just say “Mom can’t come to the phone right now” instead of explaining in detail that Mom was vomiting, pooping, or my favourite: “still naked and wet from the shower and doesn’t want to talk to you yet.”
Ahahahaha!! “Like” away because I promise to always take pleasure in your kids embarrassing you, too π It’s like a Mama’s Oath or something: I swear to find the humor whilst being responsible for sustaining a small person’s life…
Your angel is absolutely right! We don’t poop in the bathtub. Don’t you just LOVE how children put us in our place during the most inopportune moments? Hope you’re feeling better my dear!
Thanks, lady!! π
I’m sure your son’s teacher has heard it all! The only danger now is if they’ll write a book about the stuff kids tell them… it’s what I would do!
I’ve been teaching for years and my colleagues and I always say we’re penning that book. I think we REALLY should!!!
I’d buy it!
Love it!!!! Hope you feel better by today π
My son told his physio (in front of me) ‘My Mummy does really massive farts. Bigger than Daddy’s. And they smell.’ I sank down into the chair, cringing. My husband was shaking with silent laughter π¦
Kids…
I mean, you know I laughed at that, too, right?? π π I’m definitely feeling better now!!!
Oh, thanks for that! I couldn’t believe it. It happened so quickly that the panic didn’t even set in at the words ‘My Mummy…’ And the Physio was a really stuck up, snobby woman who was so uptight she was probably incapable of breaking wind herself. She just looked at me, deadpan, and said ‘Oh, does she now?’ π¦
WHAT?! She didn’t even laugh? I’m sorry, but anyone who doesn’t at least giggle at farts is dead inside.
Lol! You’ve got to be kidding me. That is better than fiction. All of the above. Love.
I would not, could not make this stuff up. But I can, apparently, write like Dr. Seuss…