Or, more aptly titled, Unable to Keep a Straight Face, and Loving Every Minute of It. Yesterday afternoon I was furiously trying to get some things done. I had an HTML email to get out for my boss, press releases to get up on my work blog for members, emails to return and, oh yeah, two highly intelligent and inquisitive toddlers to entertain and nurture. I’ll cop to accepting a bit of help from Shrek, allowing the girls to color and play trains with the entertaining quips of Donkey and Puss-in-boots to keep them fully engaged (read: away from my lap and the irresistible urge to “push da button ‘gain.”)

I had just sent a test email to my boss when I heard a wailing from the other room.

“What’s going on in there?”

“Da snowman. sob, gasp, moan Da snowman sparkles.”

I trotted into the room, a phone in either hand in case a call came in from work, to find Briar teary eyed and red faced and clawing at her tights.

“What is it sweetie?”

“Da snowman, I got da snowman’s sparkles in’ere.”

“What snowman? Sparkles? Where?” I knealt down beside her.

“In’ere,” she declared, her hand down the back of her tights.

“You have snowman sparkles in your tights?”

“No! No, mama. I got snowman sparkles in my bottom.”

I raised my eyebrows and frowned. “In your bottom? From what snowman?”

She led me to our dining room where we had hung paper snowmen after Thanksgiving, beneath each snowman is a glittery letter, an “A” for Avery and a “B” for Briar. She pointed up at the artwork and said, “That snowman.”

“Honey, wait a minute. You can’t have sparkles from that on you, it’s up in the air.”

“I do, I got’em in my butt, right dere,” energetically wagging her hand inside of her tights.

I turned on the light and told her I’d look. “You really think you have snowman sparkles in your bottom?”

“Uh-hu, yup I do. I got ‘da sparkles in my butt.”

I bent her over my knee, pulled down her tights and dubiously took a peek between her cheeks for snowman sparkles. There were no sparkles, but there was the tiniest bit of paper left from an “I can wipe myself” visit to the bathroom.

“Honey, there are no snowmen sparkles in your bottom. How did you think they got in there?”

“I don’t know mom, I just felt the sparkley in my bottom.”

“Did anyone touch you?”


“Do you feel ok now?”

“Yup, I do. Can I have a vitamin?”

“You bet.”

“Thanks. And thanks for checking my bottom for sparkles.”