Coodies

There is a certain degree of gross that is encountered when there are 4 males living under one roof. I am not talking about the sweaty boy smell, or that their room smells of dirty socks. I am talking about THE grossness factor. The measure by which one rates disgusting acts or conversations on a 1-10 scale.

-Farting outloud rates about a 2 in our house. Face it, everyone needs to fart, or “pass gas” as Mia calls it.

-Farting outloud in rapid succession to the tune of “Little Red Cabouse” earns a 4. I am not easily impressed. After all, I am married to Bill, the Crown Prince of “passing gas” aloud.

-At the dinner table tonight Quinn announced that he ate a tiny metal ball*….you know, like the ones in those little, plastic games where you try and get the ball in the hole (yes, I too am wondering what kind of mercury and other heavey metals are lurking in his little bowels). Then he went on to explain how, “it was back in the olden days when it happened, and you shouldn’t worry, because it slipped out of my butt ( I swear these are his exact words) when the poop came out”. LOA’sO we asked how he knew that, and he replied, “Because I saw something shiny poking out of the green diarrhea -like poop”.

And the judges give that a solid 7 all the way across the board because it was told while we were eating broccoli and burgers and as all the gross little boys laughed at the table hysterically, they each contributed their own “poop color” story.

-Now, you are moving WAY up the scales with this conversation…

Cody, coming into the room with pure loath and disgust on his face: “Mom, Quinn wiped a big humongous booger on my shirt. It was so big, it was just huge, and he wouldn’t take it off (hmmm…i wonder why) I am just so grossed out and feel sick.”

Quinn runs into the kitchen to defend himself: “It wasn’t that big.”
Bill: “Why did you do that?”
Quinn: “Well, it was really, really sticky and I couldn’t shake it off.”
Bill: “Oh man, Quinn, you just wasted a good eating booger on Cody’s shirt. Your loss.”

This rates a 6 Kazillion on the Grossness scale. I mean, excuse me while I vomit just a little.

Your turn. What is your grossness tolerance? Is it sitting on the toilet seat in the morning after all 4 men folk have already used it, and when you stand, you realize the seat was boobie trapped with boy pee.

Or is it opening up your 5 year olds sock drawer and discovering why he hasn’t had very many dirty socks in the laundry bin this week. Whew! Naaaasty.

I’m telling you, they have coodies.

* I have just been corrected in that it was not one of those tiny little balls, but one of those big metal balls on the Labyrinth game. Good Lord. I was wondering where that ball disappeared to!