I Saw Your Nuts, Mommy
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"I saw your nuts, Mommy"

Journal entries from a mom of 4 little boys

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  • Jan 4, 2016 - I'm not sure why I bother closing the bathroom door. Inevitably, one of the 4 ninjas in the next room opens it, walks across the bathroom, comes up behind me in the closet, and it's always, Always, ALWAYS when I'm in the process of pulling up my pants. I turn around still not knowing someone is there and jump out of my skin as I see Adrian standing there with a smirk on his face telling me, "I saw your nuts, Mommy."
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Those Really Sticky Ones...

2/21/2018

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I've been trying to pull each boy away for short occasions so that they can each have some special time away from the rest of our rowdy group. I was doing better about this until this last year, and I really wanted to make a point of making it happen regularly again starting this month. So, to get back on track, instead of cutting each of the boys' overgrown hair last week myself, I took each of the older 3 one at a time, 1 evening at a time, to get their hair cut at a "guys' place" as Javi calls it and then out for an ice cream cone afterwards. Santi isn't one to appreciate a barber shop yet, but he HAS been telling me a lot lately about how badly he wants chocolate cake.  I had asked Sol to stay late tonight, and, when I got finished with meetings this evening, I picked up Santi from extended care at pre-school. I took him to the place for the best chocolate cake on the planet as far as I'm concerned: Platia... a Greek restaurant in Frisco, Texas. We LOVE all of their food, but their chocolate sponge cake, the  sokolatopita, is, well... HEAVEN. So I pulled up, and we went inside. Santi ran over to the dessert counter and pointed to it as I knew (HOPED!!?) he would, and we asked for a table for 2. He had milk; I had Greek coffee. We had two forks and one huge slice of sokolatopita, and we talked about life (who he played with at recess), about love (that he really wants a play date with Brooklyn and napped next to Dresden), and about mistakes (like falling off the restaurant chair 3 times in a span of 20 minutes, hurting his knee, his ankle, and then his fingers, respectively). Then we got down to business:

Santi: "Mommy, is this their fork, or did you let them use our fork?"
Me: "That is their fork, baby."
Santi: "So do they wash it after someone's done with it so they can let someone else use it?"
Me: "Yes, they do. They have a lot of plates, cups, and silverware that people use, and then they wash it and then somebody else uses it." 

(This conversation has me thinking more about how people should probably be more disgusted about this than about whether Jose feeds Max off of a fork that I know for a fact we sterilize afterwards, but, anyway, Santi continued...)

Santi: "But what about if there's a booger on the fork or spoon?"

Me: "That is pretty yucky, but, when they wash it, I'm sure it comes clean."

Santi: "But what if it is the really sticky kind that doesn't come off with water?"

Me: "Hmmm good thinking... I hope you checked your fork before you started eating your cake."

Santi: *eyes bulging* *lips pouting* 

After further thought, I think the utensils at our house are definitely safer than using any restaurants' that were probably washed by a bored teenager. So don't give me crap about feeding our dog off our fork if you're still gonna eat out and eat off of sticky booger forks. But, anyway, by all means, let's all go back to eating out without thinking about what may have previously been on the fork we are putting into our mouths. Deal???


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    Hi, I'm Gina. Mother of 5, including 4 little boys. Wife. I can be bribed with good coffee & dark chocolate. Oh, and I can't say no to kittens, apparently.

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