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In yet another thrill-a-minute installation from the continuing journal of poor parenting practices implemented at the house of The Smiling Infidel, we bring you episode number 6 entitled, "You Don't Know SQUAT."
Delivering 6 babies in 7 years, and changing diapers nonstop for a decade, permanently alters brain function and capability. I'm holding constant exposure to overpowering toxic fumes culpable for my mind warp. Back then my days were nothing but crap. Literally. Cleaning crap from babies, dog, lovebirds, myself. If only we knew how to harness the power of methane gas at home...............
What does it mean when a child suddenly stops, drops, and grunts? I think we all know the answer to that question. Countless times I felt dread welling up in my heart as I recognized the straining sounds coupled with the loathed squat position. It could only bring poopy diaper changing sorrow for me and monetary happiness for the Diaper Genie company and Huggies. My once sound mind is defiled with the imprinted connection between squatting and cleaning feces out of the every dimpled crevice of a squirming toddler. Not pleasant.
It all started out on a whim; whenever one of my kids would stoop down and close their eyes, I'd rush over and playfully topple them while yelling out, "No squatting allowed!" This patented caca warfare tactic usually surprised them enough that I could then proceed to scoop them up to make an emergency toilet run, thereby avoiding unnecessary butt scrub duty.
My poor example has irrevocably tarnished the otherwise genteel nature of my impressionable children. They're scarred to the point that they cannot tolerate seeing anybody squat down without having to suppress the urge to push them over, and triumphantly declare, "Hey! No squatting!" Every single one of my children has guiltily engaged in this unbecoming behavior. They terrorized their peer group at camp two years ago. Nobody felt safe to crouch in the presence of my two older girls. Nobody. Sunbum acted as a one woman S.Q.U.A.T team as she ambushed a whole group of squatting boys; knocking them over like bowling pins. So far, my spawn have managed to control their "push and run" impulses. Only kids their age and fellow siblings are likely to fall prey to the oppressive "No Squat" regimist task force. I sincerely hope that they can continue to contain the squatting fury that roils inside of them.
Perhaps, this is the year that our homeschool studies should include a few lessons on "Squatter's Rights." Unless a territory is labeled, "A No Squat Zone", then legally they don't have the right to prevent others from enjoying a good squat in public. I'm hoping to at least get them to a mental place where they can watch, "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon", without telling the characters, "Get up! No squatting!" Such lofty goals, have I.