I took this awesome evolutionary ecology course in university, fascinated the hell out of me. But I had a terrible time maintaining focus because so much of the subject matter pertained to the large amount of study that has been conducted over in Europe... on tits. And not just any tits, but great tits. My brains nearly blew out my ears from the strain of not-laughing at the four thousand times a day my prof said "great tits". Between those guys and their tits and Darwin and his boobies - by jove it's a miracle I survived university.
I just love sort of old-fashioned words that have taken on a risqué connotation (cunning, naughty, peeler, rubber, tickled) and - even more so - words that sound dirty but really aren't (bifurcate, fagaceous, masticate, prostrate, thallus, uvula). Yea, yea, so I'm a complete adolescent, whatev. Guess I should cut Small Fry some slack for killing himself over "poop" and "fart" these days - the average two-year-old's vocabulary only stretches so far. But what he lacks in diversity, he makes up for in sheer quantity and bizarreness of usage. Dinner conversations of late generally go something like this:
"Are you enjoying your noodles?"
"These not noodles. I'm eating poop sandwiches."
(Ignore) "Mommy really likes these yummy noodles. Yum, yum."
"You like poop sandwich?"
(Correct) "That's not something we talk about at the table."
"Daddy like poop? Grandma and grandpa like poop?"
(Reprimand) "That's enough."
"Stinky bum-bum. Poop. Tomato butt."
(Distract) "So what did you do today at Jody's house?"
"I eat farts. Poop. Butt. Stinky fart head."
(Redirect) "Hmm, why don't we talk about something else now?"
"Hmm, why don't we fart poop bum-bum poop stinky head?"
(Give up) *sigh* "Yum, yum. Poop sandwiches again. My favourite."
No matter the mental agility with which you engage your small male offspring, nothing can match his single-minded determination in bludgeoning your conversations to death with potty jokes. Making mealtimes even less pleasant than they already were! (Wait - is that possible?)
Actually, I've been calling the kids to dinner lately by yelling, "Kids! Suffer time!" - my own little inside joke with myself. You can use it if you wish, 'cause if you can't laugh about it you might just have to cry. And it would never do to let the little beasts sense weakness.