Lately the boys have been teabagging things.

Like, the arm of the couch.

The pug.

The dining room table.

Gigi’s forehead.

My elephant statue from Pottery Barn.

Not in a gross, sexual, in your mouth kinda way.  More like the OMG THIS IS HILARIOUS LOOK AT WHAT I AM PLOPPING MY BALLS DOWN ON MOM MOM MOM LOOK LOOK!

It’s fun.

But, I worry that while I understand that they are just being boys who are enjoying some passing fascination with their balls, what if they do it somewhere that’s not home?

Mrs. Gibbons?  I think you need to pick up the boys from our playdate, they are trying to teabag my daughter.  And my 13 year old cat.  He’s blind.  He can’t even defend himself.

Hi, Mrs. Gibbons, we’re going to need you to come in for another meeting, Jude is putting his testicles on the statue of St. Francis of Asissi, again, P.S. YOU ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL, JESUS HATES YOU, OMG.

Because, that, folks, would be my life.

me:  Andy, you got to talk to them about putting their privates on stuff.

Andy:  I am in the car.  On my way to the Detroit plant.  With my bosses.

me:  Just tell them they aren’t allowed to teabag things until they are married.

Andy:  Well we both know that’s not true.

me:  Way to make it about you, Andy.  Our kids are going to assault innocent animals and Pottery Barn sculptures, and probably get expelled from St. Moneybags, and you are still giving me shit because I don’t like hair in my mouth?

Andy:  *annoyed sounding sigh*

me:  Ok, I’ll talk to them, but I remember when my mom gave me the private part talk, and it freaked me out so much, I literally put a piece of scotch tape across my vagina, so that nothing could get in there, and I wouldn’t go to hell.  And, I kept it on there for two whole weeks, I wouldn’t even bath, and my mom finally found out, and I had to go to the doctor.

Andy:  Um, because you are a psycho?

me:  No.  Because I had an allergic reaction to the adhesive.  Apparently she knew something was up because I spent 14 days itching my crotch.

Andy:  Ok, I’ll talk to them.

me:  I’ll put you on speakerphone.

Andy:  I mean, when I get home.

me:  But, I’m almost out of bleach wipes!?

Andy:  I gotta go.

me:  I’m going to hide the scotch tape so they don’t put it on their pee holes.

Andy:  Hmm.  You might be mentally ill.

me:  Your FACE is mentally ill.  And also, there is nothing fun about 10-14 days of steroid cream.

Andy is so lucky he married me.

I’m pretty much an encyclopedia of helpfulness.

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