The dirty bootie story

My oldest friend is who persuaded me to blog. We e-mail each other in the evenings. Last night, this educated woman who has a baby and a preschooler asked me, “How do you have time to post a blog every day?”

“My kids wipe their own asses,” I said. Oh old friend, your time will come. But this reminded me of a story.

Will you believe I have an ass-wiping story?

We used to listen to these children’s songs tapes, which included the catchy “Meet Me in St. Louis.”

One night my son was sitting on his training potty, singing this song loudly. We could hear him from the kitchen. Then it was quiet.

Then we heard, “Wipe me up, my bootie, bootie. Wipe me up down there. Don’t be rough or I’ll start whining. Wipe me up with care….”

There was more, but my husband and I were laughing and we missed it.

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One Response to “The dirty bootie story”

  1. gunky Says:

    just to clarify: i may be old, but i’ll never be as old as you. (and don’t you have any friends older than me?)
    sometimes i say you are my “longest” friend, but that doesn’t sound right either.
    and? when are you going to explain that i don’t have to blog now, because i got you to?

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