Cinder: Mom? There’s something really gross that you probably don’t want to hear that I really want to tell you.
Jane: These are the sacrifice we mothers make for our children.
Cinder: Does that mean I can tell you?
Jane: Yes. Shoot.
Cinder: You’re kind of weird.
Jane (under her breath): People in glass houses… (outloud) That’s what you wanted to tell me?
Cinder: No. You distracted me.
Jane: Shoot. Gross me out.
Cinder: OK, here goes. First, you have to start with throw-up. You know? Vomit? Puke?
Cinder: Then you need a hollow poop.
Jane: A hollow poop?
Cinder: Yes, to put the vomit into. What’s the matter? Are you going to throw up?
Jane: No, I’m just… trying NOT to visualize a hollow poop. Go on.
Cinder: OK, so you put the throw-up in the hollow poop, and then you cover it all with mucus. Like, nose mucus and snot, that kind of thing.
Cinder: And then you need a container. Like a yoghurt container, or, you know, that French Vanilla ice cream container we have? That would be perfect.
Jane: You need a container…
Cinder: Yeah. To put the mucus-covered poop ball into.
Jane: Of course.
Cinder: And then… ok, this is the gross part…
Jane: The gross part is just coming now?
Cinder: Yeah. Ok, so where was I? Throw-up–in hollow poop–mucus–in a container. Yeah?
Cinder: OK, and then you pee on it. And then you cover it up, and leave it for a year.
Cinder: Yeah. So, anyway, if I did all that, do you think after a year, it would sprout Life?
Pause. This, you all of course know, is a parenting test. Is there an answer to this question with which a) I do not squash his scientific enthusiasm and penchant for asking bizarre questions but yet b) do not end up with an ice cream container containing vomit, shit, snot and urine stored somewhere in our house for 365 days. Can she do it, ladies and gentlemen, can she do it?
Jane: It would stink to high heaven. Would you keep it in your bedroom?
Cinder: That’s it! Cinder’s patented stink bombs! We’re going to be rich!
Jane: Dude! Where are you going?
Cinder: To eat the ice cream.
Cinder: But I probably won’t do the experiment.
Oh, good. Oh, wait. Did I just get played?
You can tell him that I WAS almost puking reading it
I won’t tell him; it’ll just spur him on to grosser heights of grossness.
So I had a bit of a scare there because I found the French Vanilla ice cream container on the shelf in the kitchen, with a bunch of holes poked in it. Fortunately, it reeked not, so I was brave enough to peek inside. It’s full of dragonfly carcasses. That’s the work of the less gross maggot-loving
You may have to stop buying ice cream in containers for while 🙂
…or never eat ice cream again. I’m kinda there right now.
Very…Um…Creative, indeed ; )
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