Call Me Offended

>> Tuesday, November 6, 2007


My butt is not my own.

No, each member of my family considers my butt free territory and I can hardly turn a corner or walk down the hallway without a friendly slap. And washing dishes? Or cooking? Basically that means my butt is available for bongo practice.

So, we’re at the zoo last weekend. As we’re standing in line waiting for nachos, Elizabeth (who’s head naturally reaches butt-height) reached up and spanked the butt closest to her head. Except this time, it wasn’t mine -- it was the lady standing next to us.

“Oh, my. I’m sorry. Elizabeth, please say you’re sorry.”

The lady smiled. Lizzy chewed on a finger, embarrassed.

“That’s OK,” the lady said. “I thought it was my husband.” (laughs all around)

It’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s lost control of her butt. I suppose it doesn’t help that I often sing, “If you’re happy and you know it, spank my butt!” The girls happily comply. (Of course, I realize that only a mother of two toddlers could get away with that -- certainly not the rogue uncle or clergyman...)

Now, whenever Lizzy spanks my butt, I say in a deep voice, “Hey, little girl! Why are you spanking my butt?”

Lizzy looks up, first scared and then angry. “Mommy!”

Samantha asks, “Mommy, why are you talking like that?”

“I’m pretending I’m offended that Elizabeth spanked my butt.”

“But you’re not ‘Offended’ -- you’re Mommy.” (rim-shot)

Elizabeth adds, “Mommy, I don’t like it when you do that. So stop!”

OK, Lizzy. I’ll stop as soon as it stops being funny.

Who knows? If I keep it up, maybe I’ll get my butt back... someday.




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