Oh No! My Butt!

I am going to subtitle these blogs "Memorable Happenings at the Pasinski Home."  This conversation went on between Elia and Gracie.  I was in the kitchen cleaning up when Elia began squealing.  Yes, I meant squealing.  We did not have to use the term, squealing, when it was just three boys.  Whoa momma, someone should warn you about the squealing, shrieking, and screaming when you have a girl.  Phew.  This is what I heard.

"Oh No!  My Butt!  My butt, my butt, my butt!  No!  Oh man, my butt!"  Elia squeals. 

Great, I am thinking.  What is wrong with the girl's butt.  Please don't let there be blood, I pray.  I walk to the doorway to see what is going on without disturbing what is taking place.

"Mom, help me!  Gracie broke all these butts!  All of the butts are broke!  I can't put the butts back on. Gracie broke all the Potato butts!" she continues to squeal as she summons me to help her.

I stay in the doorway so she doesn't see me.  This is funny.  There are Mr. Potato Head pieces all over the floor.  We have hundreds of Mr. Potato Head potatoes and accessories.  Every single potato is missing their butt.  You know, the flap that holds the extra pieces.  The piece that carefully holds the cheese doodles in case he gets hungry, an extra pair of shoes and the angry eyes, just in case.  (Toy Story, people.)  So, scattered around the floor are the Potato Heads, helpless, and buttless.  Elia is now trying to put their butts back on.  Gracie is chewing on some Potato Head handcuffs while watching Elia fix her mess.

"Gracie you broke the butts.  Oh man, I can't fix their butts.  Mommy, Gracie broke their butts!" she continues while concentrating so hard to repair the damage.  At this point she is begging for me to come help. 

I enter the room at this point and ask her what happened.  I already know, but I want to hear her say it again.

She firmly tells me, "Gracie broke all of these Potato Head butts.  She broke all these butts and I can't fix them.  Can you fix their butts, Mommy?"

Mom to the rescue.  I begin to put the butts back on about twenty Mr. Potato Heads.  As I am doing this she is now shrieking with excitement.

"Yay, Mommy!  You fixed the butts.  Yay!  Good job, Mommy.  You did it.  Fix this one.  Good job!  Yay, Mommy!" she is very happy.

Gracie gets excited because she sees Elia's excited.  I am now excited because I am master repair women of butts and have saved my daughter's playtime.  It's amazing how such random silliness makes being a mom so worth it.  I am the master.

Before I resume my kitchen clean-up I hear Elia sternly say, "Gracie, don't break anymore butts."