I should have had all girls. Nope. No girls. Only boys. Three of them.
And they're at that age where they think it is hilariuos to talk about bodily functions on a regular basis. Doesn't matter where we are: somehow the subject of "poop" always has to meander its way into their conversations.
Case in point: the day we left to see my mother (their Gramma) two hours away. The oldest, Kaegen (8) and the second oldest (Korgyn, six) started talking about passing wind and going to the bathroom. The farther we went along on our travels, the louder (and cruder) their conversation got, much to my dismay.
With a look of obvious disbelief on my face, I asked my oldest son, "Kaegan, where in the world did you learn that?" Kaegan, being a boy, only laughed. He told me his friend from school had told him some jokes; somehow, I wasn't convinced. I bet it was that SpongeBob Squarepants chararacter who was to blame: he was known to be rather crass and crude in nature; yet kids (boys in particular) found him hysterically funny.
Little Brother, meanwhile, found his older brother's observations screamingly funny. He laughed like a goon. I looked at my husband and shook my head as if to say, "He's your son, too. Deal with him." Kirk didn't help: he was grinning too.
Then Baby Brother (aka Kirby, four) accidentally passed wind, which sent Korgyn and Kaegan into wild hysteria. Hubby and I had to listen to the gleeful gales of juvenile male giggles for the remainder of our trip to see Gramma. I was hoping that by the time we had arrived at Gramma's house, Kaegan, Korgyn, and Kirby would somehow settle down.
They didn't. They continued to talk ... and not about baseball, football, or cars. I was mortified, and so was Kirk. Luckily Gramma didn't hear the conversation, but I told the boys if they didn't quit talking like little sailors, I was going to have to put them into time out.
That got their attention, fast. If there is one thing Korgyn, Kirby, and Kaegan hate, it's time out. They have to sit in the Time Out Chair. They have to sit for one minute per their age. In other words: eight minutes for the oldest boy, six minutes for the middle child, and four for the youngest. It may only be less than ten minutes total for each boy, but to them it feels like an eternity. We might as well sent them to bed without their supper. They despise having to go to time out.
For the rest of the visit, the boys were perfect angels. They didn't talk any more bathroom talk, much to Kirk's (and my) relief. They played with one another (and with Gramma) without any further incident; it ended up being a good visit.
Then on the way home, the potty humor started again in earnest. We may live in Idaho, but I was ready to leave the boys in Colorado; let another family deal with them and their childish behavior! If I hear one more talk about "poop" or "passing wind" I just may end up pulling my hair out or screaming at the top of my lungs (whichever happens first)!