I love boys. I do. They are fun. They're lovable. They're boisterous, which can get on my nerves at times...but hey, I'm a girl. I grew up with a different kind of boisterous...like uncontrolled giggling and jaunting through the shopping mall. Boisterous boyness is wrestling and crashing.
And then there's the bathroom humor. I'd be lying if I said I was completely offended. In junior high, I laughed along with all the boys. I had an older brother with a crazy sense of humor. I can enjoy a crude joke with the best of them. But some days, it's just a major overdose and I literally just want to cry and go sit in a pink padded room and give myself a pedicure. Yesterday was a good example.
"Quit throwing balls in the house."
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You said "balls."
The bathroom door cracks open. "Hey guys, my poop smells like popcorn."
"I know you got your homework done, but your brother didn't"
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You said butt."
Empty can of honey roasted peanuts on the counter. "Who finished the peanuts?"
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You said nuts."
"Hey, pull my finger."
"Please pass the (BUURRRRPP) potatoes."
"What do you say?"
"Excuse (BUURRRPPP) me."
"Mooommm"
"What?"
"Chicken butt."
That's just the tip of the iceberg. I sat at the dining room table and put my hands in my face and declared that I would no longer eat at the dinner table with such savages. They all laughed. "Us? Savages? I just farted." I give up.
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