Spin-en the bottle. Just not the baby kind.

Note to self. Do not ever take a 3 year old and a 19 month old to the toy store again alone, ever. Never ever again. And if you are stupid enough to do that, make sure there is a full bottle of therapy waiting in the special cabinet when you get home. Because you are really going to need it. Seriously.

The ever fabulous Sprite's Keeper picked Favoritism for this weeks spin. Re-posting favorite posts, as if! I love her for letting me re-post an old post and somehow I don't feel like shredding any evidence of NaBloPoMo tonight.

Who doesn't love a toddler who talks like a drunken sailor? Someday I will pay for this but I still crack up every time I hear one of my kids swear. Bad mom = me. I know it but I still live to hear them curse.

I am such a child.

So here it is. Another piece of evidence that I won't be winning any mother of the year awards...
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Little-er L is sleeping, Little Bigger L and I were talking about what we wanted to do this week. It was what I thought to be a sweet little down time talk. We were having a moment. You know those moments, the ones that should be written down in a baby book unless you are me who never bothered to do a baby book for either child because I suck as a mother. Someday they'll get over it in therapy. I'm not worried. So I asked the three year old little twerp if he would like to take a trip to the zoo this week. He grabbed my cheeks in what I thought would be a "oh mom, I love you" moment when instead he said to me, the woman whom gave him life, the woman who nourishes his mind and body, the woman who wipes his butt after he poops (outside or in), the woman who makes sure he doesn't kill himself on a daily basis, he said to me...

"No, I don't want to go to the zoo because you are an asshole."

Do I gasp for air, shocked that my spawn could do such a thing?

No.

I crack up laughing and spit my iced coffee out all over him. And decided to do whatever he wanted for the rest of the day because even though he has gotten his fathers looks and demeanor, the cursing? That's all me, baby. And damn I am proud.

Like the title says, Tender moments? Not so much. Methinks that certain three year old little ears have been listening to Seriously Mama talk to Seriously Daddy when Seriously Daddy makes Seriously Mama very mad.

Yeah, they are so going to need therapy some day.
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Here's a little Juliana Hatfield Three's Spin The Bottle for you. One of my favorites...