Butt Holes and Baby Bunnies

At dinner, I asked Brian what I should write about tonight.

This is a pathetic gesture which usually means that all the blog post ideas in my little idea file seem too cerebral and my brain is tired.

Asking for ideas is a pathetic gesture because, of the several dozen times I have asked this question of him, Brian has only once actually had a good idea.* Yeah, as a brainstorming technique, it pretty much blows.

“I dunno,” says my beloved.

Sigh. “Useless! What good are you if you won’t give me an idea now and again?”

“Fine. Just write about what it’s like to be so mean and hateful. You know lots about that. Oh, and being a dog stealer. Give me my dog, you dog thief!”

For the record, I never have to steal his dog. She likes me better, is all.

“I’m not mean or hateful and nobody cares where Doodle is sitting. What else ya’ got?”

Carter, not to be outdone in this spectacular battle of dimwits, said, “You should write about your butt hole and how it can poop and fart!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “Nothing comes out of my butt hole except rainbows and glitter and fluffy baby bunny rabbits!”

“If you post some video of that, it’s guaranteed to go viral, babe. Let me know if you want me to hold the camera for you.”

My husband is so helpful.

At which point I had to remind him that my readers have had more than enough talk of butt holes, plus there was the time he showed his to the neighbors. I’d hate for us to become known as that family with all the butt hole problems, so I’m thinking I’ll skip the video of tiny bunnies emerging from my butt.

You’re welcome.

Spencer, having begun his career as a contemptuous teenager six short months ago, was sitting in the beanbag, one eyebrow raised and occasionally shaking his head at his slaphappy family. Desperate, I pulled him into the fray.

“Spencer, come on! You have to have an idea!”

“Write about Lolly,” says the boy who has the dog named Lolly under his left arm. It seems to me that the motto for most teenagers is this: No wasted brainpower.

“I can’t write about the dog! It’s not the kind of blog! I tell stories and I write about issues. I need a story or an issue!”

“Fine,” said Spencer, “tell a story about how awesome I am. You can use one of my drawings for evidence.”

Sigh.

This IS pretty awesome. I'll show you more next time I'm stuck for an idea.

*If you haven’t read the story of our trip to southern New Mexico, you should go do that now. Even if it doesn’t make you laugh, you will get an opportunity to feel superior to me, and feeling superior is always kind of fun, right?

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