My son just called me a "Tush Mechanic."
I suppose it is an accurate title. Both kids are regularly, well, irregular.
The last couple of days, The Dude has been dealing with some sort of stomach bug that started with vomiting and ended up with diarrhea, or "Butt puke," as he described it.
So the worst is past and he's getting back to normal. I got him in the bath, to wash away the last of the sick-ick. There was a brown speck in the water and he was thrilled. "You washed the mole off my butt!" The Dude hates that mole. Though I try to convince him it is really, really cute (it IS really, really cute!); he seems to think it is some tangible proof he is defective. As if those incorrigible rooster tails weren't bad enough!
So, in less than 48 hours, I'd resolved his irregularity *and* seemingly rid him of this horrible mark of imperfection! I was the most amazing mom ever!
"You're like a tush mechanic!" he exclaimed.
Then he realized the mole was still there...
I'll take the momentary glory, thank you.
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