I've made several attempts at blog posts in the last two days at my fancy new Typepad digs. The software is easy, sophisticated, powerful...everything a budding blogger needs, right? But evidently, there's something in the Typepad code that sucks all the creative thought right out of me. Every time I sit in front of my computer, I swear I hear crickets chirping in my head. NADA. My brain is a wasteland of unbloggable nothingness.
Thankfully, the four funniest little people in the world live under my roof, so I can always go with the old standby of here's-a-funny-story-about-my-kids. But this one--this one--is our family best. I've been keeping this story safely in my back pocket until my first serious case of writer's block. Ready?
(And please note, I'll be "disguising" one of the words in the story to prevent weird Google searches).
We've always taught our kids the correct names for their "anatomy", a decision that has occasionally backfired. Like the day I took our then four-year-old son to the pediatrician for a rash in his nether regions. The doctor had him pull down his pants and carefully examined him. The doctor assured me it was just a heat rash and told me how to treat it. He helped my son pull his pants up, said goodbye, and left the room. But my son trotted after him, leaned his head out the door and yelled, "Thanks, Doctor Sanders, for working so hard on my peni$ !" That is the fastest I have ever left a doctor's office.