It's amazing what your kids think up when you're not around. On the drive down to Jersey, they revealed the nicknames they'd created for each other the day before.
Are you ready?
Jack is Big Cinnamon, Maggie in Son of a Bun and Libby is Big Butt.
Can you stand it? Steve and I just about wet ourselves when they told us. And to their credit, they couldn't have picked a better time to tell us. We were stuck in pre-Philadelphia traffic.
And Libby had just farted on my hand.
Well, we were bumper to bumper just north of Philly, with no relief in...what? Oh, Libby and the fart.
Well, we were bumper to bumper just north of Philly and Maggie had to pee...really, really, really bad. BUT...with no opportunity to find an exit (we wouldn't have anyway...if you blink and miss a sign, you're as good as dead...really). So, since we were crawling along anyway, I decided to let her pee in my empty, disposable coffee cup.
She dropped trou', squatted perfectly and relieved herself in the last drops of my cappuccino. Mind you, I was an integral part of her success. One hand held the cup, while the other hand steadied her itty bitty buns to ensure she didn't accidentally piddle all over me or the van. The tinkle was then transferred to a Gatorade bottle with a tight fitting lid.
Perfect. A little disgusting, but perfect.
Not to be outdone, Libby announces that she, too, had to go really, really, really bad. I knew she didn't. She had consumed less than half of what Maggie had in the previous 45 minutes, and until she saw the coffee cup routine, she mentioned nothing of needing to use the bathroom.
But, proving that someone does NOT have to pee is harder than it sounds, and she threw in a couple of tears for affect. So, we allowed her to unbuckle, get her shorts to her ankles and attempt to make good use of my coffee cup (with my help, of course).
And she strained. And shifted on her feet. And grunted a little.
After about a minute, she snapped her head up and barked, "I really do need to pee, Mommy!" and punctuated that with a juicy, noisy, vibrate-y fart. Right on my hand. That tickled.
Jack and Maggie lost it. It was almost too much for them. Steve and I were too stunned to speak.
I. Still. Have. No. Words.
No one, and I mean no one, cuts the cheese like Big Butt.