Parenting is Hard

They just don't prepare you for this. At least they didn't in any of the classes I took, and it wasn't mentioned in the books I read.

How do you raise a competent child when you still have the sense of humor of a 4th grader?

Just a little while, Lily was in her bath, and she shouted, "Dad, I have to drop a deuce! I need you to light a match!"

She learned about "dropping deuces," probably from me. I don't even think I can blame this on Andy. She's not quite 4.

"Call me when you're done, and I'll come and light a match." She meant an Incense Match, which are indispensable, especially if you're diet isn't great, or if you in general are one who tends to bring the pain.

"OKAY! I'M DONE!" she yelled about 30 seconds later. I went into the bathroom and had to ask her mother where we keep the new packs of matches, and then found a pack of the French Vanilla.

"LIGHT IT!"

"Hang on," I said. "Did you wipe yet? Make sure you wipe." So she grabbed some TP and wiped her front.

"No," I said, "You have to wipe the other side. You know, your..."

"My butthole?" It was here that I had to choke back the laugh that just came out of nowhere. I swear to god, it must be Pavlovian.

"Erm," I managed, still kind of snarfing, "Um, yes?"

"That's a garbage mouth," she said, which is what we say when she repeats the curse words that her mother and father use on a pretty regular basis. We're getting better, but seeing as how the words that come across my lips, especially when I'm driving, with the most frequency seem to be "Shit," Fuck," and some variation of "Goddam," it's pretty hard.

And the thing is, because Lily's great aunt The Reverend Dian bought her a book over the weekend called, "The Gas We Pass: The Story of Farts," which has a pretty awesome diagram of the digestive system, Lily now knows the word "anus," which I could have used.

Except I can't say "anus" with a straight face, either, so what now?