It was mentioned in the comments on a recent post that I do not discuss my middle son, Alex, nearly enough. I’d figured that since I’d devoted Year One of Mommy Wants Vodka to him, you guys were probably sick of hearing about him.

Alas, I was wrong.


When Alex was two, I’d finally managed to wrangle my boobs away from him – he was a Boob Man – and *cue angels singing on high* put him in the shopping cart when we went to The Target. After spending the first year of his life as the ONLY person he’d allow to hold him – and in my arms was the only place he’d not shriek – this was no minor victory.

Whenever I think of Alex, I think of the legend of the Monkey Paw, which apparently no one else has ever heard. Basically, there’s a long-winded, slightly creepy story involving wishes, dead monkey paws and gypsies. The moral of the story? “Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.” I’d have guessed the moral to be something more like, “don’t buy a dead monkey paw, you jackass.”


During his pregnancy, see, I’d cried and moaned and carried on about how much I wanted a baby that loved me best (Ben’s autistic and didn’t give a flying poo about me)(can you blame him?).

WHOOOOO-BOY did I get that in spades.

So there I am, in The Target, trying to soothe my savage son who is trying to wrangle his way from the cart and into my arms, where his newborn sister is. It’s nearly impossible to hold the two of them and walk around at the same time, so I decided that the only course of action was to begin to sing. So I did.

“C is for cookie, that’s good enough for me, OH C is for cookie. Um. A is for Alex, that’s good enough for me, OH A is for Alex, that’s good enough for me, oh Alex Alex Alex starts with A!”

Probably terrified a good number of shoppers with my horrifying amazing singing.

It was then that my son, son of my heart, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, told his first joke. In song form.

“P is for Poopy, that’s good enough for me. P is for Poopy, that’s good enough for me. Oh poopy poopy poopy starts with P!” Then he burst into gales of laughter.

Rather than scold him, yell, or even raise my voice for making an off-color, inappropriate joke, I busted a gut. Then I beamed in pride. It’s not like I sing the P is for Poopy* song myself or anything.

This Sunday, on the way home from picking the boys up from their sleepover at Grandma’s, my musical eldest began singing all 198 versions to London Bridge Is Falling Down. Apparently, in addition to dancing cat videos and porn, You Tube is ALSO good at teaching kids all the obscure verses to songs.

As my eldest sang, “Build it up with bricks and hay,” for the zillionth time, my middle son decided that what the song needed was a little pizazz. So he, in all his tone-deaf glory, began to chant, “Build it up with poop and hay, poop and hay.

Rather than do the proper thing and be all After School Special on him, “Now Alex, we don’t say, ‘poop’ in this house,” I laughed. I laughed so hard that it actually hurt.


He’s the kid that’ll net me a jillion angry phone calls from other parents. It’ll be all I can do not to laugh.


40 thoughts on “A Child Of My Own Heart. Presuming, Of Course, I Have A Heart

  1. Yeah, we’re all poop, butt and wee wee jokes over at my house right now. Sometimes it’s hilarious…sometimes alarming. Either way, at least he knows two body parts and two bodily functions…I’m a success!

  2. OMG OMG OMG!!! I read that Monkey Paw story in English class!!! I had SO forgotten about that until now! GROSS STORY!!!

    THis is why I love you…you parent JUST LIKE ME!!!!!!

  3. I laughed out loud reading that. Made me think of my son, Andrew, who is now 17. When he was around 5 we drove to Orlando – 12 hour drive. He had to go to the bathroom and instead of just asking he began to sing (you have to know the Sugar Ray song to think this is funny):
    “I just gotta pee. I need a toliet baby, yeah I need a toliet baby. I just gotta pee.”
    This began the trend of him saying something most would probably find inappropriate, but I always would laugh.

  4. I have a 7 month old baby boy who laughs at his own farts and giggles when you say poo poo. He makes me laugh so hard. If you can’t laugh at those situations parenting is not fun. I have enough disgustingly hilarious stories about my son and his love for motorboating sweater cows and farts to laugh until the day I die and he isn’t even a year old yet.

  5. I have a 7 month old baby boy who laughs at his own farts and giggles when you say poo poo. He makes me laugh so hard. If you can’t laugh at those situations parenting is not fun. I have enough disgustingly hilarious stories about my son and his love for motorboating sweater cows and farts to laugh until the day I die and he isn’t even a year old yet.

  6. HA! Grew up with the monkey paw story. Also…my daughter has just started to appropriatly use the phrase “Damn it!” it’s hard to scold her cause she IS using it correctly after all…..what’s a mom to do but laugh and say “Honey, we try not to say that, but at least you’re using it right!”

  7. I laughed so hard! Can I babysit your middle son? He could hang out with my two spawn….I mean lovely daughters and talk about poop all day with them!

  8. I always laugh when my kids make poop or fart jokes. Mispronunciations are funny, too. Last night, my 3 year-old told me he saw a “titsy” spider.

  9. That reminds me of the time my daughter told her entire kindergarten where babies come from. Well, she asked us, and my wife, not being one to sugar coat things, gave her the basic outline.

    The next night we get a call from a mother and my wife of course is oh no, now I’m gonna get it.

    The woman had actually called to thank her. “Now I don’t have to do it,” she said.


  10. I WISH my kid would sing songs about poop. He talks about his penis waaaaay to much. I can just imagine the phone calls that I’m gonna get when school starts next month. And I have no idea where it comes from! I came across an old blog entry and had written how after a diaper changing one day, he stood up, patted his freshly diapered crotch and said ‘My penis is big.’

  11. In my house, adding the words poop, caca, fart, and eyeballs (I don’t understand the last one, but whatever) to songs is like a fucking olympic sport and my boys are gold medalists!!!!

  12. So my boys start preschool next month and all they can talk about is poop and farts and weenie etc. They also like to take their clothes off all the time. In preperation for church preschool (the only option in our town) I have tried to teach them timeless things like, “what does nobody want to see?” and they reply “our junk”. I also taught them that poop, penis, pee, butt are bathroom words so you can only say them in the bathroom.We even made a song about it. Problem solved, right? Oh no, now they go into the bathroom and start screaming every word they can think of. I can’t stop laughing, it is hysterical. Probably not to the people at school but I’m sure that will be the least of my problems.

  13. So you have one of those too huh? Last night Zack was stripped to his underwear in preparation for PJ’s & bed. I leaned in to give him a hug before he went upstairs and instead of hugging back he stuck his armpit in my face and yelled “Stinky armpit!! Smell it!!” And I couldn’t help myself, I laughed. Now today I will probably get a call from daycare saying he did that to some friend and how inappropriate it is. Inappropriate… yet funny….

  14. My parents are singers. My mom added a vocal performance major to he undergrad degree, and my dad paid his way through med school by touring the country playing lead guitar and singing backup for some late 80’s band that’s probably common knowledge to anyone over 35 but whose name always eludes me.

    Anyway, my brother inherited an extremely powerful singing voice from them. One Sunday in mass, all the cute little three-year-olds were supposed to charm the parish with a sweet rendition of “Jesus Loves the Little Children” (that politically incorrect song referring to the children of the world as “red, or yellow, black, or white”). My brother had other plans for the peformance. He sang, “Jesus loves the little poopies, all the poopies of the world, brown, or brown, or brown, or brown, they are precious in His isght, Jesus loves the little poopies of the world.” The problem was that Matthew was louder than the rest of the children combined even when the director put the microphone up to her own mouth and tried to drown him out. We don’t live there anymore, but anytime we go back to visit, people still bring up Matthew’s rendition of the song.

    On an unrelated not, one of my LDS relatives briefly decided to join up with a polygamous cult in Canada. She wants to leave now.My parents are going to try to rescue her. It’s all detailed as much as it is safe to do so here. I can’t give away all my parents’ strategies in case the enemy happen to read (as though anyone as impotant as a major player in a polgamist cult actually reads my blog).

    Anyway, here is the link;

  15. On Saturday, my younest discovered she could make fart bubbles in the bathtub.

    She talked about them, ALL. DAY. LONG.

    Everywhere we went. “I want to take a bath when we get home, so I can make more bubbles with my butt!”

  16. If you don’t already have the book Everyone Poops at your house, make sure to get it! It will still be amusing at 11 and 14 (ok, and 41). It’s hard to beat poop talk (and even tougher to top poop song I’ll bet). We graduated to crap here…and all versions of it…craptastic, crappery, crapparama!

    Have a poopy day!

  17. A few years ago my stepdaughter told me that my boobs were cantalopes, and hers were fried eggs. I still laugh about it.

  18. What do you mean no one knows the Monkey’s Paw story? We were REQURIED to read that thing like 5 years in a row in my school days. Damn illiterate internets.

  19. I don’t have kids, but I have nephews and a niece…. but Alex sounds like more fun. Do you loan him out? …just for a weekend at a time, of course. Then that way I can get Alex to teach my nephews funny things/how to be funny and I could have my own version of Alex the Awesome!

  20. Me, me, me, me! I know the monkey paw story.

    And, I would have laughed like hell too. Tell Alex thank you for inspiring tomorrow’s blog post.

  21. Holy crap, I sing P is for poopy ALL EFFING DAY LONG now that we’re potty training the offspring. It makes me want to stick forks in my eyes.

  22. Holy crap, I sing P is for poopy ALL EFFING DAY LONG now that we’re potty training the offspring. It makes me want to stick forks in my eyes.

  23. I am serious that once when the younger twin, Liam, was about 18 months old he farted in front of me and laughed about it. I didn’t know farts were funny even among the “I’m still really a baby” set.

  24. Around here, a fun family favorite activity is making up new lyrics to the “Diarrhea Song”. You know: “Some people think it’s funny, but it’s really green and runny. Pthhh Pthhh (the toot sound).” We’ve come up with some really great verses.

  25. Ha spent the weekend camping with3 teenaged sons, non stop inappropriate humor. I have not laughed so hard in months, God help their mother if it continues this week, as I actively encouraged it.

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