Human Anatomy 101, the Preschool Edition
I mean, this is right up there with MAET BUTT.
It happened during my recent trip to the Southwest with my friends Dan and Victoria and their lovable kids.
So, I’m back in Tuscon after four days of being on planes, in cars, and in rooms with small kids who want me to do things like chuck them off the sides of a beds onto air mattresses and tell them stories that contain the following characters: a giant squid, a shark, and a Dimetron. If I deviated from the script, I was reminded in A VERY LOUD VOICE that Diplodocus was NOT on the approved character list. (Sorry, kid. Auntie Lolo is tired and can only keep track of two giant predators at a time.)
There were lots of logistics to keep track of on this trip. And there was a lot of shouting and pleading for “TWO MORE MINUTES, MOM!”
You know how it can get when you travel in a group, right? Without creature comforts and routine, social order breaks down. Tempers flare, alliances are formed, and eventually, someone winds up dead from a blow to the head. Or something like that.
Well, we were all a little on edge and sleep deprived and cranky.
I had also come down with a nasty sinus infection by this point. My whole body ached, and my head felt like it was full of wet cement. I hadn’t slept well in five days. Something miraculous had taken place in the last few weeks and I was finally able to SLEEP at night, like normal people. But when I got into Arizona, I couldn’t sleep again. And all I wanted to do was sleep. And there wasn’t going to be any sleeping in my future any time soon. I was going to have to get up at 3:45 in the morning to catch a 5:00 am flight.
So, Little Man was in the bathtub at Aunt Linda’s house, and the demands for this toy or that toy were reaching crescendo levels. Victoria was trying to sort and pack a small mountain of clothing into two suitcases. Dan was trying to accommodate Little Man’s demands and help Victoria at the same time. Aunt Linda was pacing and politely trying not to lose her mind over the chaos in her craft room (which we were staying in). I was trying not to shove an ice pick through my forehead to relieve the pressure in there. I think the only person still having a good time at this point was Giggles. She was in seventh heaven assembling layered paper cut-outs of lions and turtles courtesy of Aunt Linda’s nifty die-cutting machine.
It was around eight o’clock in the evening and Little Man was just finishing up his bath. Dan had hoisted him out and was searching for a towel. Little Man, of course, had ants in his pants even without his pants on and had wandered into the hallway outside the bathroom. As soon as Little Man discovered the full length mirror, he paused and studied his reflection. He pointed to his chest, and yelled out:
DAD, LOOK AT MY NIBBLES!
NIBBLES, INTERNET! Could ya just die of cute?
The whole house exploded into laughter. It was just what we needed: a little desert rain after a long, hot day.