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.
*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?

I had to read this. It would have been against my very nature to not read a post with this title.
And your son’s drawing is very good. He could be the next Chip Foose, but of motorcycles.
Excellent drawing! The perfect seat for a butt hole.
=D
OK, I thought I’d read most of you blog, but have just found some posts I’d never read, like the ones you’ve linked to above. The one from August 11th, it’s understandable… was the day after my 50th birthday, I was still recovering from the staggering weight of crossing over the half-century mark. Thanks for making me laugh, I needed that tonight.
Also? I was wondering exactly where it was that rainbows came from… and now I know.
I love it when I ask my husband about posts and he comes up with the most ridiculous things. That picture is pretty awesome!
Families inspire the darnedest things, and Spencer’s drawing is pretty awesome.
our families just don’t get us, do they? we are WRITERS! we are brilliant! we INSPIRE people. we are the most important people on the interwebs! sigh…
this sounds a lot like the help I would get.
although Spencer’s drawing IS pretty sweet.
That story of your trip to southern New Mexico is hilarious! It is the epitome of the phrase, “We will look back on this one day and laugh.”
Martha Stewart should hear about your glitter trick.
My butt hole produces gold coins. Its how I pay for my 50-room mansion and my extensive gaggle of housemaids.
More often, my kids complain when I shoot down their myriad of ideas.
They’re now convinced that their very existence is blog-worthy.