Oliver continues his wrath on our underwear. We are almost down to commando. I have learned to pick my things up and put them in the laundry straight away. Bug on the other hand, is a typical messy teenager.
ME: Hey! Oliver ate out the crotch of your legging pants. They are goners. Nasty!
(very huge teenage fit and tantrum like sounds)
It did not take long for her to stomp over to me in the bathroom.
BUG: I hate that dog! He makes me so mad! And you should never say he ate out my crotch, Mom! Do you even know what that means?
ME: Uh. I'm not sure where you are going with this...
BUG: Do you know what it means when a guy eats you out?
ME: Danger! Danger! Abort your mission! LA LA LA LA LA LA! NOOOOooo! Danger!
BUG: You need to stop saying that. That is gross.
ME: It was just a fact of the circumstances of the pants. You are not even supposed to know what that other things is you were talking about.
BUG: You don't know what it means when a guy eats a girl out?
ME: STOP! Yes, I do.
BUG: Have you ever had that done to you? Do you like it when they do that to you?
ME: Shush! I can't take this anymore. Put your pants in the garbage.
BUG: You are so gross!
ME: ME? Oliver is the one who ate your stinky crotch out of your leggings. That should tell you something. Pure nastiness.
BUG: I AM TALKING ABOUT YOU! YOU ARE GROSS TO LET GUYS DO THAT TO YOU!
I have now had 15 therapy sessions and not one of them is burning this conversation or images out of my head. It's on to whiskey and a bubble bath. Calgon!
|Maybe we should have gotten cats.|