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September 25, 2007

Corralling The Horses

If you’ve been worried about the the right age to teach your children “Found a Peanut” or “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” you can mark that off your to-do list. I’m happy to report that if your kids are exposed to a wide variety of wholesome friends they’ll learn those songs and many other, equally irritating ditties as well. I think it happens by osmosis.

We discovered this on our way home from Auburn, where we’d gone to visit Bill’s parents, although everyone else seemed to think the football game was the main event.

Sunday Finn was in a Dramamine-induced coma in the back seat after a morning of vomiting, so Porter and Drew had to compete only with each other to be heard on the way home.

After a stop at McDonald’s, the boys were eating their chicken strips. Drew started cracking up.

“Hey Porter, I’m eating female chicken,” he said. “The box says ‘all white premium chicken breast’ so I’m eating a lady chicken’s boob!”

The duo started laughing so hard that I was forced to place a moratorium on further boob/tit/breast talk, for fear the guys would choke.

I’m getting ever so tired of hearing the conversation that passes for witty banter among the third grade set; it always includes guns and blood or body parts (or a combination of all three). I turned up Amy Winehouse on the iPod and tried to ignore my offspring.

Later in the trip, though, I learned that Porter has a cut of unknown origin on his penis.

In the middle of the twins’ babbling I heard Drew command, “Porter, put your horse back in the barn.” This grabbed my attention. We don’t have a horse; this is universal Glamore code for “put your pecker back in your pants immediately.” (Are we the only family who has invented a code for this instruction? It will be embarrassing if none of the rest of you have.)

“Porter, why is your horse out of the barn?” I demanded, without turning around, because I’ve made that mistake before.

“Because it has a cut on it and I was looking to see if the cut has gotten any better,” he answered.

“It looks just the same to me, Porter, so put it back in your pants,” Drew said derisively. “You’re always looking at it.”

“No one needs to examine his penis in the car. Wait until you get home and do that in the bathroom,” I decreed.

“I don’t know how you got a cut on your pecker anyway,” Drew said. “That’s stupid.”

“I don’t know either, okay,” Porter said peevishly. “Just leave me alone.”

There was silence for about a mile.

Then Porter spoke up again. “Mom, I want to change my name. Can I?”

“Sure,” I said tiredly.

“Okay, I want everyone to call me Porter-is-fun-dot-com Glamore. And now it’s time to sing.”

And then the ditties began.

When traveling with boys, start off well-rested, as you’ll need every ounce of energy to rein in their more outlandish behavior during the journey.

Two years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: Cocoa Puffs and Lady Lumps

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 8:10 am • Boys: Demented & Dangerous   

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17 Responses to “Corralling The Horses”

  1. […] Avid Press Room wrote an interesting post today onHere’s a quick excerpt If you’ve been worried about the the right age to teach your children “Found a Peanut” or “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, … and blood or body parts (or a combination of all three).  I turned up Amy Winehouse on the iPod and tried Posted in My Tiny Kingdom ( 182 links from 125 sites) […]

  2. Yowsa.

    First let me say that I have a girl and a boy, and the conversations that they have could make a sailor blush. Apparently, nothing at all is off limits anymore.

    But I must conclude by saying, I have no code phrase to ask anyone to put any body parts away. I feel a bit neglectful, come to think of it.

  3. Too funny! Gotta love them boys.

  4. Oh thank the good lord. My boys are normal. They are not freaks. I feel totally relieved. The hot topic at our house right now is butts..oh and farts. I feel blessed.

  5. “Porter is fun dot com Glamore. And now it’s time to sing.”

    That is a funny kid!!

    Hope the horse is healing.

  6. First let me say I knew I liked you. Amy Winehouse rocks it!

    Second let me get on my knees in this public way and thank the dear Lord that I have three girls and not boys. He knows exactly what I can and cannot handle.

    Boys are not for the weak. Of which I am a card-carrying member.

  7. I love that you knew not to turn around to look when the horse was out of the barn, because it’s happened before.

    Although I only have one boy (now 18 months) I can tell it’s going to be interesting in a few years. Thanks for the preview.

  8. Can’t. Stop. Laughing.

  9. How funny!

    My sister’s family says, “your barn door’s open; your horses will get out” as code for “zip up your pants!” Her lone daughter, at the age of 4, responded, “I don’t have horses. I only have hay.”

  10. Again, I’ll thank anyone and everyone I can for the girls I was given.

  11. My latest child’s Penis problem occurred 2-3 weeks ago at Alabama Adventure (Water Park Section) We had just made it to kiddie area and my son (4 yrs) said he had to go to the potty. I look at my wife and said great. I was looking for my middle (2 1/2 yr girl) so I could take both at the same time but she had ran to the furtherest part of the same area. I turned to my wife who had begun nursing our latest (5 mos) in a secluded spot and my son was no longer there. He had his penis out peeing in the pool area next to a spouting slide. Well let just say I became really red and angry and not from the sun. Well he had told me he had to go and I will act quicker next time

  12. Oh, I can so relate.

    Fortunately the horses don’t come out of the barn often here, however they like to be completely uncorraled, with no barn in sight, sigh.

  13. […] you can email me at anneglamoreATgmailDOTcom or you could leave a comment on my most recent post, Corralling the Horses, which isn’t about horses at all, at least the kind like Black Beauty.  Sorry for […]

  14. I’m with Jordan – I almost snorted coffee just now!

    My boys are still preschoolers, but we have recently discovered the wonderful world of the “phallic stage”. So far all we say is “stop fiddling with your winky!” I know, using a euphemism for a body part is a big no-no, but I figure there’s time to figure that one out yet.

    I told my husband (after having The Talk with our 8-yr-old daughter) that all masculine puberty-related (and otherwise) discussions are his department. Go ahead, call me a prude. I don’t have the equipment and so have no experience in this area.

    Plus, I am a prude.

  15. I love the menu post! Please keep it up! I love to cook but I am pregnant with my second and somewhere in between sick and tired my motivation went out the window- your post will help…Thanks!

  16. Porter-is-fun-dot-com.

    Migod – I think I ruptured something laughing at that.

    And as to the code phrases? Oh, yeah. Given that my two are now looking into having their hands surgically attached to Mr Knish (code phrase 1), at the park, at the table, in the car, and at the supermarket, I have been overheard saying things like:

    “J! There is a security breach at Los Pantalones; please close and lock the front gate at ONCE.”

    “W! Elvis has left the building and he needs to go back INSIDE.”

    And so on.

    I used to have a real life. Swear.

  17. […] « Previous Main […]

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I'm Anne Glamore, wife, mother, lawyer and blogger. I have three boys, and I'm desperately trying to train them to become Southern gentlemen, but that may be an unrealistic goal. At this point I'd be ecstatic if they'd quit farting at the dinner table. If you're new here, check out the Readers' Favorite Posts below or browse through the Categories. I write about my attempts to teach the boys about peckers and sex (which we call "making googly eyes"), my struggles with hepatitis C and spine surgery, the boys' adventures with fire and pets, my mom's death from ovarian cancer, my love of cooking (with plenty of recipes) and anything else that crosses my mind. Join me on Twitter or StumbleUpon or Email me. I'm happy to speak to your group or club.

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