Mommy=Potty?

We had another fun weekend here at the 'bergs. Eric and I are continuing on our quest to turn our kids into the consummate party animals. We're firm believers in the theory that if you party well, then you can do just about anything well. It's a good motto.

Saturday we took the kids to a parade and festival thingie. It was good times, especially since there were about 8 other people at the parade, and all Tate had to do was stand on the curb with his hand extended imperiously and candy would magically come flying through the air at him. That was pretty awesome. It would have been more awesome if we didn't get so much freaking salt-water taffy. Seriously, who eats that stuff? It tastes like salty, watery, chewy...ass. But anyway, we stuffed all the candy into the diaper bag, where Tate promptly forgot about it. Mwa haha. I steal my kid's candy.

Then we went to the festival and went on some rides. I had brief moments where I wondered if putting my child on something that looked like it would fall apart in a slight breeze and was operated by dudes who looked like they could be related to Sloth from Goonies was the smartest idea I've had, but I got over it. You gotta have faith, man. And, see? He loved it.

Ohhhhhh, yeah.

Helllllllp.

Ok, he looks a little petrified there, but honestly, he loved it. They went down that thing like 6 times. Eric had to stop dragging him up the steps by his ankle kicking and screaming after like the third time. Kidding, kidding.

Nora opted out of the rusty, squeaky, creaky, death-defying fun and sat on the grass and ate it. Cause, really, what else is there to do?

Don't even try to tell me this isn't the cutest picture ever. Cause I'll have to cut you.

That night Eric and I went out for date night and had the worst waitress in the history of the world. You know you're in good hands when you ask for a drink menu and she asks you what that is. Apparently she had trouble grasping the concept of drinks themselves, since it took her 25 minutes to bring us ours. I was about to grab something off the table next to us at that point. Ah well. We were sitting outside, sans kids, enjoying ourselves.

Sunday we had people over for a BBQ. It was good times, as BBQs tend to be. See? Here's Tate jumping on the trampoline with his crack peeping out. Really, toddler butt crack and a trampoline are all you need for a successful soiree. Especially when the toddler's swim trunks fall completely down. And then he pees on the trampoline.

Crack is whack.

The kid has issues with shorts lately. I keep the waist loose on them for optimal potty pull-downage, but in Festival the other day we were hurrying across the parking lot with him holding my hand. I noticed he seemed to be walking weird but didn't stop to think much of it. Weirdness is pretty much par for the course with this kid. As I was putting Nora in the cart, I heard someone say "Wow! Do you need help, little guy?" I turned around to see Tate chewing on his finger nonchalantly while his shorts puddled around his feet. Yeah, he was displaying the SpiderMan undies for all the blue-hairs at Festival to see. I wonder how long it would have taken me to notice my kids shorts fell down if someone hadn't said something. I'm thinking awhile, seeing as my powers of observation are pretty weak these days. I'm the mom who didn't notice right away that her daughter was trying to chew on a dog toenail, after all.

And finally, on the subject of pottying, here's a heartwarming story to leave you with. I was sitting on the floor the other day and my dear son came up to me, entwined his arms around my neck and rested his head on my shoulder. I know. Awww. This is what transpired.

Tate: "Mommy?"

Me: "Yes, honey."

Tate: "Can I do something?"

Me: "What would that be, my little pumpkin of sweetness and light?"

Tate: "Can I pee on you?"

Me: "Yeah, I'm gonna say no."

Tate: "But I want to! You can be my potty!"

You know you have your kid's utmost respect and idolatry when he wants to use you as a latrine. It took a long time, folks, but we got there. That's reverence, right there. After a long, drawn-out discussion, we came to an agreement that really, mommies are just so much cooler than toilets and therefore should not be whizzed on. Success.