So the kids were in the bath yesterday afternoon with their bathing suits on (as one does), playing with their Barbies and erupting in hysterics whenever one of them tooted (bonus points for bubbles!). I was on my laptop because a) it totally counts as proper bath time supervision as long as you’re in the same room (I know because I asked Twitter) and b) of course I was, so I was only 3/4 paying attention (ok, fine, 5/8). I was busying myself with whatever it is I do with my time (probably really important grownup stuff), when I heard the Barbies talking.
“Your mom is the winner,” said one particularly naked brunette.
“No, YOUR mom is the winner,” retorted an equally naked, save for a painted on swim suit, Belle.
Now wait just a minute, here. YOUR mom? YOUR mom? Spoken with the exact inflection and amount of forceful sarcasm as one would use while delivering a Yo Mama joke. No, yo mama’s the winner. Granted, being a winner isn’t necessarily the greatest yo mama punchline, but the intent was clearly there. And seeing as I am the mama to both parties, I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or do a victory lap. Should I be insulted? Was being a winner in this situation a bad thing, seeing as they were arguing over who had to be said winner?
I was about to ask for clarification when the tub exploded in giggles again when the oldest blew air bubbles into the water and made a farty noise while doing so. Given my extensive experience with these two, I’m pretty sure I should have been insulted, but I was kind of proud. I can take a joke.
“Hey, Eirinn, that water your just put your mouth into is the same water that touched Avery’s bum and I’m pretty sure her toots weren’t pretend.”
I’m not sure where all of the class went, but I am positive there is none left at my house.