Squeak’s Squeals

Welcome, all, to the next installment of the Sunday Confessional! This week, I would like to confess to the world at large that I use my children for my own entertainment. No, not your cutesy little “Awww…. she said fwapper instead of flipper!” entertainment. I’m talking the cute bordering on wrong, and sometimes crossing the line.

These are not things I teach my children with the intent to use them as jokes. These are things they pick up naturally over the passing of time. These are the reasons I dread public outings. These are the same things that make me cringe when I get a phone call from the school. These are my angels at their finest:

#10. Starting off the countdown is Roo at the age of 4, who, when asked why she continued to ingest the gold she found while nasal mining, answered, “Boogers taste like chicken.”

#9. She is followed closely by JellyBean with, “I said put me down! NOT THERE!!!” Uttered while over the shoulder of the Neanderthal and upon the realization he was putting her to bed.

#8. JB is on the rise with the classic, “Wow, Mommy! You have a big butt!”

#7. It’s Roo again. This time inquiring, “Mommy, are you a sexy beast?”

#6. Roo holds steady with one of a mother’s most dreaded phrases, “When am I gonna get boobs?”

#5. JellyBean is tearing up the chart while screaming from her bedroom, “You can’t do this to a Princess!”

#4. Royalty holds fast as JB demands, “No, no, no! You’re supposed to say ‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ and bow.”

#3. It’s JB again with a shining moment of logic, “Everybody has a belly button - even fat people.”

#2. Roo comes back strong - and at the age of 2 - after feasting on her own diaper droppings and stating, “This chocolate is yucky.”

#1. It’s the 4-year-old version of Roo, rounding out the countdown, with the infamous, “My butt hurts. (Me: “Why?”) I stuck my finger in it.”

And there you have it, folks! The ten odd, disturbing and wrong phrases uttered by the curtain climbers which have caused me the greatest amusement. Or at least the ten which came to mind this evening. And you also have my confession: that I not only enjoy these little nuggets, but look forward to them for use as my own personal humor fodder.

Looking for more confessions from strangers? You’ll find them at Humor-Blogs.com.

I am alone. I am utterly alone. At this exact moment Neanderthal and the munchkins are well on their way to meet Doofhead, father of munchkins, and I have the entire weekend to myself. Happy Mental Health Weekend!

What’s that, you ask? What did I do with my first moments of silence? Cranked some tunes, of course! The total silence is too deafening for my taste.

So how do I plan to spend my weekend of no responsibility? I have a few ideas:

1. Naked Solo (no relation to Han) House Party. But I’d be too afraid the neighbor’s dog would see me and keel over of fright in my backyard. How do you explain to a stranger that the mere sight of your sagging, wrinkly bosoms caused their beloved pet to take seizures and die? Worse yet, how do you explain it when you answer the door while holding your own nipples?

2. Gardening. But then you must consider that I am cursed with the Green Thumb of Death. Seriously, if it is non-mammalian, and I touch it, it WILL die. Fish, caterpillars, cacti, even a Chia Pet - I have slaughtered them all.

3. Chick Flick Marathon. But, honestly, who wants to spend their first weekend alone in seven years reduced to a flesh-toned, slobbering blob of hormones, hugging a box of tissues and feeling sorry for themselves?

4. Catch Up On Email. Then again, how many inspirational- send- this- to- everyone- you- know- or- the- seventeen- spawns- of- hell- shall- come- forth- and- eat- your- spleen forwards can a person handle in one weekend? Dammit, mom, stop sending me this shit!

5. Shopping. This would be a viable option if I didn’t hate shopping. I don’t even like stopping at the gas station, it’s too much like the real thing.

Eh, who am I kidding? I’m gonna spend the weekend in my bathrobe, drinking rum, eating Ben & Jerry’s, pwning noobs on Guild Wars and watching Monty Python. And I can’t wait to get started!

Break the silence! Go to Humor-Blogs.com!

In my daily morning browsing of “favorite” channels on the digital cable - in a quest to locate Noggin (ie, television for toddlers) - I came across a freshly added channel in the favorites list. The channel was called “Jenna”, or more specifically “Club Jenna”. That’s right, kids! An entire channel dedicated to the pornographic antics of your favorite clothing-challenged superstar: Jenna Jameson.

My first inclination was to believe the Neanderthal has been having gooey, late-night imaginary escapades with the queen of bumping uglies, but he denies any involvement and I have no reason to doubt his claim.

The munchkins, however, have been trying desperately to teach themselves the inner workings of the magical cable wand of ultimate power.

The wheels started turning. Could it be? Have my little angels been attempting to access premium porn channels? Did they think “Jenna” was the little girl from school?

The mind boggles and, not unlike the eternal conundrum of the Tootsie Pop, the world may never know.

Find your favorites at Humor-Blogs.com.