It has come to my attention that I tend to rely on the use of potty mouth in order to get a cheap laugh.
Yes. Yes, I do. Don’t act so surprised.
Here’s the thing though, as a nursing student minoring in Native studies, I spend most of my days reading, writing, and speaking like this:
don’t actually read this, skip to end of paragraph as I can’t guarantee you won’t be dead of boredom before you reach the end…
Instead I have to weave the material into something so complex that even the teacher can’t figure out what the fuck I’m saying and doesn’t dare question me lest I actually do have a point, thus negating her years of toiling towards her PhD.
I want to tell you about my kids, my husband, myself.
And yes, in order to be authentic about us and who we are, unfortunately, sometimes the use of the words ‘poop,’ ‘penis,’ ‘testicles,’ and of course, the ever popular ’fart‘ are required to paint a complete picture.
So that having been said, let me solidify this point by sharing a conversation I had just yesterday with my seven-year-old son regarding a craft that he made in school.
In the spirit of Halloween, the kids were taught about different kinds of spiders.
The teacher then asked them to make their own spider, give it special qualities, and a name.
Here’s what my child wrote about his spider:
The spider that I have created is called a Machine Gun Spider.
It lives in the military.
It catches its prey by shooting bullets out of its bumcheeks.
So I asked the little genius, “Bumcheeks? Why bumcheeks?”
His answer: “Because the teacher wouldn’t let me say buttcheeks.”
That clears things up.