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Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Ass Butter, Anyone?

Day 2 of debilitating headache. I hope to return to your regularly scheduled blog-a-licious programming soon. In the meantime, here is a little something I wrote earlier that still cracks me up. I hope you enjoy it.
 
Okay, calm down. I plan to explain. 

As I was walking with a friend yesterday, we approached the cow pasture on Reynolda Road and the strong odor reminded me of my recent visit to mom's with the kids. Around the corner from her house is a tiny pasture of donkeys, which we had to stop by daily so my kids could see the fuzzy little baby donkey.

"Aww," said my 5-year-old son, "Mom, I NEED a baby donkey."

"And what would you do with a baby donkey?" I asked.

"I would rub him and smuggle with him and squeeze out his milk and put it in a jar and shake it and make butter," he said in a tone that also implied, "of course!". (And that's no typo. He mispronounces "snuggle" as "smuggle". It's one of those cute baby words I encourage and reinforce, like when my daughter used to call carrots "wickets". It's just one of my many parental fails, I'm sure.)

"Hmm, I've never heard of donkey butter, Dear."

On hearing the story my walking buddy said, "so ... that would be ass butter?" I love her so.

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