It is becoming increasingly typical that the children are having a harder and harder time going upstairs. Perhaps this has something to do with my broken foot (yes, I blame it for everything) or with the fact that Aaron leaves in a week for a six-day trip and the tension is already beginning to rise. In any case, no one wants to go upstairs; there is more and more fighting, vomiting and fits involved.
When such a case arises, we put something saved from the DVR on to watch. And it's not saved Charlie and Lola or Max and Ruby or any other cartoon that is titled Character A and Character B. We put on our shows.
Typically, we watch something about Freemasons. Or pyramids. Or Doomsday 2012. Or the Mysterious Heads of Easter Island. Last night, I chose The Girls Next Door.
I figured this would go over well. Griffin loves boobies. Unfortunately, I could barely hear the girls' anxieties over shooting their next Playboy pictorial because Griffin kept adding his two cents to the show.
As in, "Mommy, I like your boobies more." Or, "Mommy, their boobies are scary." And, "Mommy, where's their nipples?" And let us not forget, "Mommy, you've got the best boobies in the whole wide world."