This story is just too good to pass up re-telling and hands-to-God, it’s all true…
A few months ago I was sitting down to lunch with the kids. The boys were having a “naked phase”. Any time was nekkid time for the guys. So long as they didn’t pee on anything, I was okay with it.
Until That Day.
I was precision cutting up organic vegetables for a healthy lunch platter (Or making a box of Kraft Dinner. Same difference.) when I heard Mr. Cereal Killer rustling around behind me.
I turned around and – here is where time slowed down – I saw Cereal Killer with his penis in a glass of milk.
Okay. I was not going to freak out at him. I don’t want to give him some weird body issues because his mother screamed at him for dunking his weiner like an Oreo. So, I was very calm.
“Whatcha doin’, kiddo?”
“Drinkin’ my milk,” he answered without hesitation. I was still not quite sure where this was going but I stayed silent to allow him to continue the thought train.
“My straw isn’t suckin’ it up,” he said with frustration as he waved his little winkie around in the cup. You could see the logic deep down in there but still…no.
After that, I insisted my children wear pants at the table. No exceptions.