Life in the Fish Bowl


The Mystery Worm

Me: I'll go get your orange worm (new foot long stretchy orange and blue centipede from WalMart) and you can hold it while you go poo poo.

Punkin': Ok

I get the worm

P: It's sooo beautiful. I lub him. I will take care of him. He's a worm.

M: No, he is a centipede.

P: No, he's a mystery worm.

M: No, sweetie. He's a centipede. He has 100 legs. That's why they call him a centipede.

P: No. He's a beautiful, verrry mysterious centipede and I lub him.

M: Well, you can't keep him unless you go poopie for me. In the potty. Not pee pee, poo poo.

P: (puzzled look, like what are f.... ?)

M: Poopie. Poop. Stinky. Doo doo. Boo- interupted

P: interupting CRAP!

M: We could go to the zoo if you would go poo poo in the potty. We can't go if you go in your pants. What would we do, walk around with poo poo in your pants all day.

P: I would go poo poo on the animals.

M: You can't do that. The animals would bite your butt!

P: (look of confusion and wonder)

P gets down from the potty and gets in my face.

P: Mommy, I want to pee pee on the tiger. And the lion. I want to pee pee on the elephant.

P: Mommy, I lub you (while grabbing centipede from trash can). I lub him. He's beautiful. I've never seen this before. It's a mystery bug, a mystery bug, a mystery bug. A wigglin' worm. Verry dangerous.


And I wonder why eyes some of my working, childless, plenty of money friends glaze over when they think of stay at home moms?

All I can tell you is that I can't think of anything more wonderful or more rewarding than being a full time influence on the life of a child. Teaching them, molding them, watching them achieve all of those milestones which will never happen for the first time again.

Even pooping on the potty. Not that it will ever happen at our house, but you get the idea.

And having him teach me that a centipede is indeed a wonderful, beautiful, mysterious, wiggly worm.