CWK: 24.7-365.7-11: Buttocks, part deux 

Bud, whining: Mom, K-Mad is calling me a bubble butt. 

Me: First of all, we don’t use the term butt. It’s rude. You can say tushy or buttocks. We’ve been over this before. Secondly, I don’t even know what that means. What is a bubble butt? What do you do with a bubble butt?

Kids start to giggle and respond:

Lady J: Blow it!

K-Mad: Pop it!

Bud: Buttocks. Butt. Talks. That’s a funny word. I wish my butt could talk.

At this point, my only thought is, “Pardon me. May I ass you a question?” From Ace Ventura, and it took every ounce of restraint to not ask it aloud…

Me, miraculously holding it together: That’s not how it’s spelled. It’s not t-a-l-k-s as in talking. It’s b-u-t-t-O-C-K-S

More giggles…

Bud: Huh. That’s like the “ock” of “sock”

{He’s clearly learning word families and phonics in school}

Bud: But I still wish my butt could talk. (Hehe. I said butt twice that time!)

Even more laughter…

Lady J: Bud, futzies are kinda like talking for butts.

Hysterical laughter insues…

K-Mad: Den my but can tawk! I’m so gassy! I been futzy-in for a-wotta-days now. Mememba dat time when my futzy was so stinky dat Daisy Dog weft da woom? Dat was a weawy stinky one…

Bud: K-Mad, do not talk with futzies. We’re in the car and Mom has the windows locked. I do not want your butt to talk when we’re stuck in here. Then you would be the bubble butt, for real…

K-Mad, whining: Mom, Bud dust cawwed me a bubble butt…

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