Octopussy

Oh me, oh my.

I know as parents we are supposed to be mature. Grown up. Adult-like, even. But sometimes your child says something and it just brings out your inner middle school kid, you know?

My husband and I were driving the kids around the other day and Vivi remembered that she was given an expanding octopus (you know, the kind that grows when you drop them in a cup of water) and she wanted to know where it was. We had this octopus a couple months ago, so it had long made its return to the ocean (so to speak), but it was what she was calling her long lost (and forgotten) pet that was killer.

“Mom, where’s my octopussy?”

“Uh…” as my husband and I look at each other with that look (you know that look) and tried not to laugh or smile. “The octopus we put in the water? That OCTOPUS?”

“Yeah. The octopussy I got from the dentist. I want my octopussy.”

“Well, your OCTOPUS got too big for the glass, so he had to go back to the ocean.” (see what I did there?)

“I want my octopussy! Where is my octopussy?!”

At this point my husband and I just couldn’t keep it together. I told Vivi that her little brother had thrown the OCTOPUS in the garbage (I didn’t want to deal with the wrath of Vivi right then) and then changed the subject to celebrating birthdays (her favorite subject).

And then we giggled like middle school kids for the rest of the car ride. Perverted parents. Sheesh.

~Vanessa

 

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