Good to know

The dog days of summer with Lizy and Courtney and babies. 

A few things I learned this week.

The Law of Diminishing Returns does not apply to McDonald’s Sausage McMuffins. It should. It really, really should. But about twice a week, there I am, ordering that dollar’s worth of mystery meat and faux cheese with all of its carcinogens and unnecessary calories. The other day, the nice girl at the drive thru said she looks forward to my visits because I am one of the only customers that smiles.

She knows my name.

I know I should stop, and I really will.

Next week.

I will never convert Riley to twangy old school country music. This is one I have to learn time and time again. Last night, after ice cream and Master Chef he said,

“Did you see that Josh Weathers guy cover “I Will Always Love You? Whitney Houston has never been so cool.”

“Umm, Whitney Houston? You do realize that Dolly Parton wrote that song, right? It is her song. And she slayed it when she sang it in her youth. You should hear it.”

He smiled, “Does it sound like she sounds now? Only more like her?”

I felt a surge of triumph. Finally! Finally, I would get him to listen to Dolly and Loretta and Tammy. It was happening! It was all happening! “Yes!”, I said with triumph, “Exactly!”

“Yeah, I’m not interested.”

My husband’s limited musical taste aside, he was right. The way Josh Weathers sings this song makes me all shivery and what not. Which, I have to say, even Ms. Parton was not able to pull off in her original, groundbreaking version.

Like Riley said, Whitney Houston has never been so cool.

Children think that adulthood is a mysterious, foreign state of being.

For excruciating example, Zuzu came up to me the other day and said,

“Mom, why don’t you poop?”

I froze. That word, the “p” word, is not a word I use. I would have preferred to hear any other four letter word come out of her innocent little mouth. Seriously, she could have dropped the eff bomb and I would have been less shocked. Honestly, I would have had to stifle a laugh. But that word? No, no, no.

“Ummm,” as I nervously cleared my throat, “Well, all living things do, you know, that. And I am living, so you know, I do that.”

“Oh, mom. No you don’t. Everyone knows grownups don’t poop.”

Everyone knows? Who is everyone? What do her and her friends talk about?

I should have told her she was wrong, I should have explained that the human body never loses its need to excrete waste, but I simply couldn’t get the words to come out. Parents always talk about the conversations they weren’t ready to have with their children. Sex, drugs, politics. I think I will handle those all just fine. But that one? The “p” word? I was not ready.

I am still not ready.