Six months back, when I was a nOObie blogger, I didn’t think about the fact that if you included certain words and phrases in a post, you were sure to get visits from the ilk who’d searched for keywords like “Daddy spank my butt” or “we are swingers” or the ever popular “pole dancing.” Now of course, having spent a little time out in the Blogosphere, I know in advance that weirdos will be stopping by because of some of the keywords that will necessarily pop up in this particular post. So, Dearest Web Weirdos, my apologies for wasting your time, but this mommy blog will give you no satisfaction if you stopped by thinking you’d read about wife swapping, pole dancing, spanking daddies, or other similarly dodgy phrases that happen to appear hereinafter.
Living with two teenagers during her early childhood years most certainly had an effect on Laura’s personality and emergent verbal skills. For example, while other kids might say, “Swiper, no swiping!” or “Time for Tubby Bye Bye,” Laura can match Napoleon Dynamite and Clark W. Griswold quotes with the best of ‘em.
Similarly, Laura’s nascent vocabulary was also influenced by her big sisters. One example that comes to mind took place during her first year of preschool. Laura took great pride in dressing herself. On one occasion, well, maybe more than one occasion, Laura showed up to preschool sans panties. Now Laura’s preschool teacher offered me comfort for my embarrassment by telling me that in all of her years of teaching, it is a more common occurrence than you might imagine for a child to have forgotten to put on his or her underwear, which is one of the reasons the preschool keeps extra pairs on hand. But her teacher also told me that in all of her years of teaching, until Laura came along, she had never before had a child discover that she’d forgotten her panties and then proudly announce, “I’m going commando!”
Then there was the time, when Laura was not quite four years old, that Kristen, Laura and I were in a dressing room at Nordstrom. Kristen was trying on bras and when the saleslady came back into the dressing room with another size, Laura informed her, “My sister is trying on bras because she has bodacious ta tas. I only have ta tas. My ta tas are not bodacious, so I don’t need a bra. I’ll need one when I’m about fourteen. When I’m fourteen my ta tas will be bodacious.” You can imagine the look on the saleslady’s face and what she must have been thinking about me.
Now when Laura and I were at church last week, we ran into Lisa, darling, fun, Lisa, who is a breast-cancer activist, a past 3-Day participant, etc. Lisa was sporting a new visor which was embroidered with a pink breast-cancer ribbon and the words “Save the Ta Tas.” Having had the “benefit” of a teenage vocabulary before she’d hit Kindergarten, and recognizing the pink ribbon, Laura grasped the meaning. (I am not a big fan of bumper stickers, but this one just might find its way onto the back of my car very soon.) About a week later Laura was standing in our kitchen opening the pink lid of a Yoplait® yogurt. Every year, starting in September, Laura and I save pink lids and mail them in because Yoplait® donates ten cents per lid received to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. Laura handed her lid to Tom to rinse for her, but forgetting himself for a moment he tossed it into the trash compactor. Laura burst out, “Daddy! Don’t throw away that lid. We’re trying to save the ta tas!” Tom had not seen Lisa’s visor, but it only took him a moment to catch on. With a small shake of his head and a warm smile, Tom pulled the lid from the trash, rinsed it off, and added it to our pile.
You too can help save the ta tas. Join Laura and me. Save your pink Yoplait® lids and mail them to the following address before December 31, 2006:
P.O. Box 72716
Rockford, MN 55572-7016