Happy Sooty Booger Day!

Sharon mentioned yesterday while we were watching The Magical Smoking Box (actually some kind of firework that was supposed to be a shower of golden sparks but fizzled) that we were all going to go home with black stuff inside our noses from the smoke. Sooty boogers! (You know you're partying with sophisticates when you can brag about your sooty boogers. Incidentally, you also know you're partying with sophisticates when they light their sparklers after placing them in a beer bottle in the middle of the road.)

Watching the fireworks had the same effect on Gus as listening to Flogging Molly. Meaning, my child became a dancing spaz right before my eyes. Which is how I found myself having this conversation:

Me: Do you need to use the bathroom? [I only asked because he was dancing around with his hands clinging tightly to his crotch]

Gus: No, I'm just SO HAPPY!!!

Gus then ran over to where I was sitting to add in a stage whisper, "My penis itches!" This was followed by maniacal giggling. I offer this anecdote as scientific proof that the male happiness gland is connected directly to the penis.

Speaking of the penis, I have another story. I know, I know. This is supposed to be a family blog. Really, I record this here mostly for posterity.

Me: Do you think it's weird that people shave their legs?

Dashing Husband: No, people do lots of weird things. Some people pierce their noses with bones, some people get tattoos. In some cultures, they actually refer to each other by the shape of their genitalia.

Me: How does that work?

Dashing Husband: Well ...

This is the place in the conversation where Dashing Husband listed off some examples. I, however, cannot remember them, because I had started giggling and couldn't stop.

Dashing Husband: [has noticed I'm giggling] What? What's so funny?

Me: Well, when you said "the shape of their genitalia," the term "pencil dick" popped into my head.

Dashing Husband: That's the spirit, honey.

Me: I've heard people say that. And, well, who wants to be "pencil dick"?

Yes, it seems like living in that culture, whatever it is, holds a lot of potential for embarassing nicknames. This entire conversation was a direct result of one I had earlier in the day when a friend of mine asked me if I still shave my legs. To which the answer is yes, and not because I think I have to or that I don't support women's liberation. I just like the way my legs feel when they've been freshly shaved. My friend, however, is married to an anthropologist, and she mentioned that anthropologists think it's weird to shave because primates don't. So, out of curiosity, I went home and asked my own anthropologist husband what he thought. How quickly it all goes south, yunno?  

We ended the fireworks by writing with sparklers in the dark after the children went to bed. My loving husband wrote my name in fire, which I thought was romantic. And then, because we are so mature, he wrote "boobies!" I think this basically sums up our relationship.

So, yeah. Happy Sooty Booger Day! I knew for sure the holiday was over when Superbaby released two huge poops in my lap today. Also? I found a discarded pull-up that Will had stuffed into the diaper pail ... and it was full of moldy poop.

Business as usual.