Potty talk

When S was 7 and M was 4, they developed an inordinate fascination with potty words: "poop", "pee", and the most forbidden word of all, "butt". One afternoon when my patience was at a low point but my sense of humor was mysteriously elevated, I told them that if they were going to use potty talk, they had to do it in the bathroom. Thus ensued several days of lengthy (for a 7 and 4 year old -- like 20 minutes) sessions of joyfully making up songs having to do with BUTTS.

I doubt if that falls into any category of brilliant parenting, but it was the beginning of an alliance. The lifelong kind, the us-against-them kind, the kind we Always Come Back To. Last night they were on the phone for hours, reviewing potential romances, deep spiritual matters, and idiotic teachers.

The alliance, now happily progressed far beyond naughty words, serves both as a protection against opposition and an accountability for right living. It is the foundation of future Thanksgivings and Christmases and family reunions, and I am so grateful.