Masters of Disaster

I came home from work to find my children laughing hysterically. Together. Without any screaming or fighting or drama.

The way things have been lately, this should have been cause for alarm. They just have NOT been on the same page, at the same time about anything this summer.

It turns out, they had created a game. "Wedgie Mama."

But of course! What good would any sentence or title around here be if it weren't for a "potty" word?

So, the game involves my exercise band ("but Mom, YOU never use it") and couch cushions. I don't think it actually involves a wedgie. At least I hope not. I got a few details, but those are sketchy and sound suspiciously like they've been made up on the spot.

I guess a better mother would have pressed them for more information. As it was, I was just so thrilled they had used their imaginations and weren't fighting that I figured I probably didn't want to know the rest. Because then the better mother in me would kick in and explain that it wasn't: 1) safe, 2)appropriate or 3) either.

Another teaching moment avoided. You know, as much as we moms love those, sometimes we just get so tired of 'em. Or at least I do.

Besides, if it's a hit, they'll play it over and over and it will become the stuff of family folklore. Just like "Oh No My Baby!" and "Big Wheel Slingshot."

I'll get into those another day. Otherwise you'll judge me.

I have memories of ridiculous games and sayings and tricks we played growing up. My own children should have them too. Ever seen Real Housewives of New Jersey? Caroline's kids have the "Ham Game" where they throw pieces of ham at each other. Silly, yes. Judgementally unsound, uh-huh. betcha!

So, I'll let them have "Wedgie Mama."

Because what's life without a little bit of reckless, silly, potty word humor?


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