My son has started speaking in full sentences and it’s adorable and adorably terrifying. His very first sentence was, “Here you go, elephant.” He said it the other day while leaning down to share some of his cracker with his stuffed animal chair. I swooned, grabbed the camera, and patted myself on the back for raising such a thoughtful and kind child. Sharing! So young! Go me! Fast forward a few days and “here you go, elephant,” has evolved significantly into wild eyed attempts to communicate his desire to maim me and rub shit molecules all over my body.
I was sitting in the living room today, listening to Dolly Parton’s Christmas album (DOLLY PARTON FOREVER) when my son came running around the corner waving a paper punch in the air. He stopped dead in his tracks about two feet from me, looked into my face with wild eyes and said, “HOLE IN NOSE!”, then launched himself at my head like a Facesucker alien trying to get the office tool around my nostril. I pried him off (who knew that toddlers were so strong?). I set him down and said, “No, we don’t hole-punch people. Also I already pierced my nose in the nineties, not a good look for momma.” Because what in the shit do you even say? He shrugged and calmly repeated, “Hole nose.” I said, “I already have two holes in my nose and that’s just fine. I’m taking this away and putting it in the drawer, let’s go watch Daniel Tiger and see if they have a “my toddler is way too into body modification” lesson. Spoiler alert: No.
Jump to ten minutes later. I tried to take a thirty-second shower while he finished his Daniel Tiger episode on how to be mindful and chill. Because I had but a free minute, I was taking what my mom called a “whore’s bath” growing up, which is basically just washing the essentials so I could get out before he noticed I was gone. I’d just grabbed the soap to lather my bottom half when I heard hard little feet run across the tile. I stiffened and sped up. I was on high alert and listening intensely while scrubbing my vagina and booty with the speed of a German motor when I see something out of the corner of my eye. I turned and there’s nothing. Then suddenly the curtain is thrown to the side as the toilet brush was thrust into the shower and being waved around like a baton during halftime. “Put it back, baby! Please put it back!” I hollered while trying to rinse off. I turned to face the water for a quick frontal rinse so I could jump out when he smacked me in the leg with the toilet brush. Then in one swoop attack he managed to get it from the top of my back all the way to my ankle. “GROOOOOSS! NOOOOO!” I squealed. Then his little face peaked around the curtain, he smiled, “Wash mamma! BRUSH! MEEEE!” And I laughed because his little voice is still the best thing I’ve ever heard even when I’m being harassed and taunted by it. Then I cried a little inside, because shit brush.
Please send wine.