Afternoon with M and M

Children are crazy. Honestly, crazy and also- hellbent on making their parents crazy. Since it's been so long since I've brought you a "morning with Max" story, I thought it's high time I share something. It's brought to you by our school system.

We're in the car after school today, running errands, and I hear the following from the backseat:

Max: Eat my nuts, eat my nuts, eat my nuts!

Stunned, I look back to get a visual on what is going on, but since I'm, you know, driving, I don't get a good look. The chant changes:

Max: Up my tree! Eat my acorn! Eat my acorn!

I sigh a sigh of relief, knowing that my sweet 6 year old boy is just being squirrel obsessed as we, in this house, all are want to do on occasion. Then, a pause in the chant...and Max explains:

"My acorn is my penis!"

I choke a little...but say nothing. With this child, I've now learned it's better to not make a fuss. He LOOOOOOVES fusses.

Evidently, at this point, we're in a testicular nickname discussion, so Magnolia chimes in:

"Today in class I had to read a sentence which said 'She was playing with some balls' and a bunch of kids laughed at me. "

At this point, I have a small stroke. I recover enough to hear her say- "But I don't know why they laughed, do you?"

Channeling my mother, I think "Because they're a bunch of uneducated, classless asshats whose parents don't bother to teach them right from wrong or how to read or add but have no issue teaching them multiple inappropriate euphemisms for body parts and letting them watch movies and tv shows that make those euphemisms a joke."

But what I say is: "Because it's a word that is a way to say testicles and children who aren't taught any better think that it's funny to say those things".

Now, considering at this point, I have some mild brain damage, here is my recollection of the conversation that followed:

Max: Testicles are like the little balls inside your scrotum.

Me: Yes.

Magnolia: Is that the hangy down thing behind the penis?

Me: Yes.

Max: Maybe people call them balls cause they're ball shaped. But on the inside.

Me: Sure.

Magnolia: If there wasn't a scrotum, where would they go?

Me: I don't know.

Max: They'd just fall out

Me: um...

Magnolia: That seems uncomfortable.

At that point, I am pretty sure I blacked out and just auto-piloted to the bank. It's not that I mind having these conversations with them, I really don't. I'm certainly not squeamish, and I'm happy that they ask me things and trust that I will give them honest answers. It's just weird that the 12 year old who lives in my head who giggles at Beavis and Butthead like remarks and who can't help but blurt out "That's what she said" at every possible opportunity collides with the June Cleaver, minivan driving, PTA vice president, soccer mom part of me that comes out when I have my kids around. Or at least, that I think *should* come out. :)