Mortification Memoir

Middle Twerp has some type of oral fixation. The child was born with a quarter, three army men, and a Bic pen top in his mouth. Seriously. I just held out my hand as I laid in the stirrups and told him in a firm voice, Spit those out. The doctors were a little perplexed, but I knew it was just the beginning of what was to come.

The child would be a great candidate for Freud to study in the oral stage. Oh I am sure there is some fatal flaw in my parenting at an early age that has caused every item smaller than a hot air balloon to be placed in Middle Twerp's mouth. I am sure my lack of discipline with breast feeding caused all this oral fixation...but until Freud places a vice dripping with acid to his nipples every three hours for 12 months, he better not judge me, that is all I am saying.

And inevitably when Middle Twerp is confronted with the question of what is in his mouth, I get this complete guilty look and a vigorous head shake. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what seals the deal that he is guilty as charged.

Today was a prime example of this unfortunate behavioral flaw. We were at the McDonald's Playland because I must get out of the house at least once a week and I showered just last night and needed to show off my newly washed hair -- it is the simple joys in life, people. But, McDonald's Playland should be known as Satan's Playground. Because when it comes to places being just out of reach of your parents, it takes the cake.

The Twerps can get just within a fingernails reach of me in those musty, locker-room-smelling tunnels and know they have me. Cause there is no way in Hades I am crawling up there and taking the chance of getting my super sized hips jammed between the Hamburgler and Grimace. Ya know what I am sayin?

Well, when Middle Twerp was confronted with his chewing, he immediately ran for the just-out-of-reach tunnel and proceeded with the guilty look and vigorous shaking of the head. This was all the confirmation I needed.

Spit it out.

Head shaking.

Now.

More head shaking.

What is it?

Continuous head shaking.

Threats...gritting of teeth, manipulation, bribes...all to no avail.

Then this sweet little girl comes up from behind me and pulls on my skirt and says...

I shared with him.

Oh, well how sweet. It must have been a french fry or a hamburger pickle or worst-case-scenario, a half eaten chicken nugget.

So, I went back to my seat to surf the web on my blackberry watch my kids oh-so carefully.

When it was time to leave I gathered my herd and started to walk to the door. The sweet sharing little girl came running up and stuck her hand out. Middle Twerp spit something into her hand and said,

Thanks for sharing your band aide.

As she tried to restick it to her knee wound, I gagged.