Potty Mouth

Look at these presssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh babies at Wye Mountain playing in the daffodils. 

So sweet and innocent...

Beautiful angels in the bright yellow flowers.

Enough to make this mamma tear up realizing that her cubs will only be ages 5 and 3 once seeing this beautiful spring phenomenon.

I love 'em so... 

There are seriously times they grab me and hug me...or times I'm making up a bedtime story when they turn and say "I love you, maMMUH (gumming the 'm' sound).." or times when they look up at me and ask why something is the way it is, like why are carrots orange?  ...or times I overhear them telling their friends that their mommy is the best mommy because she makes us chocolate chip cookies from scratch and lets us eat the beaters.... that I just almost can't take the emotion it pulls out of me.  

It's usually about that time... when I'm welling up and my eyes get watery, when I've dropped to my knees in a prayer of thanks to God for allowing me to guide these two children... that they'll spit out the trashiest words their little mouths can.

Like the other morning.  Now, when they're good, we have what's called "Cafe" at Mommy's Diner.  That's when I take their play table and set it with plates and forks and spoons and cups and a homemade menu and pretend like I'm serving them.

"What would you like to drink for breakfast?" I ask.

"Orange juice and water with ice in it in my Hello Kitty sippy cup," says my high maintenance baby girl.

"Just milk, mamma," says my sweet boy.

They were chattering and pretty much just having the biggest, giddiest morning of all time when I brought in their drinks. 

And that's when they said it.

"Mommy is a POOPIE-DOODOO HEAD!"  Laughter erupts.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

At first, I ignore.  "What would you like to eat this morning, you potty mouth little rugrats?"  I ask with the straightest face I've got, despite actually wanting to laugh out loud.

"Mommy has POOP coming out of her mouth and her ears and her butt!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" 

That's it.

"Poopie!"  "DooDOO!"  "Brown yucky poop head!"

Seriously.  From these precious tiny mouths?

"Okay," barks stern, mean mommy.  "Time out.  No. More. Cafe."

Oh, the protest.  Crying and fits follow. 

We got over it, then I said the unthinkable.

"IF I hear one more potty mouth word, IF EITHER OF YOU has trash-mouth today, I'm washing your mouth out with SOAP."

I vowed I would never, ever do the very thing that was done to me when I talked trash at age 5.

No more potty words came....

Until about 4 that afternoon.  Kids were out back playing, and sure enough, a potty word was uttered.  From baby girl, no less.

Scooped her up, carried her into the bathroom and set her poopie butt down on the bathroom countertop.  She had her hands nearly glued over her mouth to keep this awful thing from happening.  She looked scared, and her eyes were wide.  If she only knew how HORRIBLE I felt for doing it.  Grabbed her hands and stuck the white bar of soap in between her tiny lips and scrubbed for a minute.

I expected tears and screaming and a whole lot of spitting.  But instead..................................................

She smiled.  And looked at me with her mischievous little eyes.  And said..................................

"Mmmmmmmmm.  Yummy."

WTF.  Are you f'in kidding me?

Then her older brother who insisted he watch the entire mouth-washing-with-soap incident go down.... goes "Mommy, I wanna taste the soap."

Really?  OMG.

Okay.  So that didn't work. 

Or................................................................................

maybe it did.  Because several days have passed, and I have not heard potty mouth chatter since one little girl's mouth was washed clean!

LMAO!  Ooops... I meant LOL.