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Thursday, 07 February 2008



You know, they may not 'get it' right now, but kids have frighteningly good memories. One day, when he's about thirteen, he's gonna suddenly announce, completely out of the blue, "you guys are gross!"

Moksha Gren

Your title is misleading, Simon. Declan was certainly talking about a lillipop...I'm not so sure Amy was ;) And poor Dex...the nightmares he'll have as his slumbering brain tries to solve the puzzle presented. "One-eyed, sticky private part?" will be the phrase that sends him skreiking in the night.


Aaah, I love it. But you know I would. (Last week I was tempted to do a post about our family's favourite meals -- shrimp fettuccine, for one -- and title it, "Proof that all good things in life come with a white creamy sauce." But Marc quickly said I shouldn't. And he's right. I'm glad I could write it here in good conscience. :)



If I can consistently gross out my kids in the future, I'll be a happy man. Especially if my wife keeps likening my bits to a lollipop.


Those dreams Amy and I will inflict on our boys in the future will be their just desserts for the trial of raising them. Am I starting to sound like my own parents now? Probably.


That would have been one of the best post titles ever! While I, of course, would normally admonish you to listen to your husband, this would have been one of those rare exceptions where ignoring him was the better route. At least you had an outlet here!


It's fun, but we've severely curtailed our indulgence in such adult wordplay when Ben's within earshot.

You say you gave her an earshot? Gross!



Good one Simon... (and Amy)!


Dear Declan and/or Tavish,

You are probably reading this in the google cache or the internet chip in your head or maybe in a pair of display contact lenses.

Yes, your parents are gross.


Cheeseburger Brown

I think that conversation is infinitely preferable to one in which your wife was unfamiliar or apathetic about your anatomy. Sad, but common.

If your sprogs do read this one day, they'll at least know mommy and daddy actively enjoyed each other.



Your curtailment is more impetus for us to speak carelessly as much as we can, while we can.


Amy and I take turns being each other's straight man. Or woman, as the situation dick-tates.


Yes. Yes we are.

Mr. Brown,

I revel daily (but still not frequently enough) in my wife's relative uncommonality.


Frankly, I'm a little scared by the red and sticky part.


I mean pink, or mauve, perhaps. And satiny, maybe. But red and sticky? Not so much.

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