Wednesday, April 15, 2009

So the dead bunnies are laughing at me

The Easter bunny brought the boys some sponge pills.  You know, the plastic capsules that dissolve in warm water and open up into little sponges shaped like animals and bugs and amoebas and shit.

They've had tons of fun watching the tiny sponges open and guessing what the creature is supposed to be (Well, Huck does that. Worm just likes to throw them out of the tub and laugh hysterically while I wipe up eleventy million tiny puddles).  I, however, have been completely freaked out by the tiny sponges and now wish I had shown the kids the dead bunnies on Easter morning rather than give them these gifts.

I think those bunnies are NOT resting in peace in my front bushes.  I think their evil little spirits are effing with me through the Easter goodies.

We did the safari animals on Monday night.  First, the ostrich was headless.  Second, the elephant was trunkless and tailless.  Third, the lion was missing a paw.  The lion is is my astrological sign, so I took it a little personally, but didn't suspect foul play by evil ghost bunnies at this point.

Tonight we did sea creatures.  At first, they weren't too bad.  The crab was a little smooshed and the shark and dolphin were virtually indistinguishable, but no parts were missing.  Things took a bad turn when we got to the whales.

There were two whales.  They both looked like whales, but different enough from each other that they were clearly different types of whale.  Huck insisted I figure out exactly what they were supposed to be.  I started to just make something up, but then I remembered that the back of the package had a diagram of the sponge types.

I picked up a tiny red sponge whale and found its shadow match on the back of the package.  "It's a killer whale!" I announced.  Then I picked up a tiny blue whale and found its shadow match on the back of the package "It's a.... um.... whale!" I mumbled.

"Mama, does it not say what kind?" asked my sweet, rule-following little boy who thinks everything always turns out fair and even.

"Um, no, it just says whale", I lied.

People, it said sperm whale.

Some weird prude girl who I have never met, crawled up from the depths of my psyche and would not allow me to say the word sperm to my son.  He's six, the word sperm is just a word in his vernacular.  There's no sexual connotation for him.  I knew all of this, but I still couldn't say it.

I think the bunnies knew I would stumble with this parenting rite of passage and changed the wording on the package just to trip me up.


  1. Unfortunately, the only exorcism rites I am familiar with involve Grey Goose and Red Bull.

    The bunnies may not quit laughing, but you should be able to communicate. The only drawback... you may not remember what they said in the morning.

  2. Wow...for someone who had their 2-year old proudly calling the male and female genitals by their correct anatomical names, I find it funny that you now stumble on sperm! Girl, you better suck down and beer and get to telling that boy about the birds and the bees. Or, maybe just start with marine animals.

  3. Bid E, I would rather get drunk on cough syrup than vodka and Red Bull. Plus, isn't putting Grey Goose in Red Bull kind of like eating caviar with Doritos? You could put Heaven Hill in Red Bull and it's not going to taste any different. Dude, save your money in these tough economic times.

    Jo, I would like to clarify that the only anatomically correct words my boys use are penis and breast. There has been no occasion to use the V word with them and I would like to keep it that way.

    The main reason I couldn't do the sperm thing is because I didn't want to field any follow up questions Those boys have caused (and continue to cause) me to have insomnia, constipation, heartburn, stress headaches, a flabby tummy and a mild dependence on beer - I HAVE EARNED THE RIGHT TO HAND OVER THE BIRDS & THE BEES TALK TO TRUCK. Sorry, got carried away, didn't mean to yell at you!

  4. Oh, Lord help us all if he's trying to explain the bird and the bees to anyone, let alone Huck...who will want to know al the "rules"! I would love to be a fly on that wall!!!