On the way home from buying a new mattress Sunday (rest in peace old plank, hubby and I and our twinging backs will not miss you), the girls were giddy with late afternoon errand running tiredness and the amusement of pouncing on mattress after mattress after mattress. When the very young salesperson told us to lie down on our prospective mattress and just relax for 15 minutes or so to get a feel for it we laughed because by then the girls would have hijacked the store delivery truck and headed for the nearest McDonald’s.
I turned around to tell the girls something and Miss C makes a comment that can only come from a 6-year-old.
Mommy, let me see your Spongebob teeth.
Mommy, you’ve got Spongebob teeth!!!
I am then bombarded with a litany of Spongebob insults from Miss C which somehow segued into boob talk (it’s either boobs or poop around here) followed by non-stop laughter and Miss C giving herself a wicked case of the hiccups from laughing so hard.
Mommy you’ve got Spongebob boobies!
No…you’ve got Patrick boobies!
And then the worse of the backseat club insults:
Mommy you’ve got Squidward boobies!
I’m not sure what classifies my boobies as Squidward boobies, but it can’t be good.