Last night Lola was cranky. It was the last night of her week off from school, and the impending return to kindergarten was not happily anticipated (Lola, grinning devilishly, had the idea of staying home sick, but both last night and this morning her proffered forehead was felt and deemed non-feverish, causing her to shake a tiny fist at her mother). She sulked while her older sister brushed her teeth, then brightened with a thought. "Can I draw Buttopolis on you?"
"Sure," said her tired mother. Lola grabbed a pen and drew on her mother's leg, pausing to inquire about an old, black lion on my foot, "Is this tattoo permanent?"
"Of course it is."
Lola was offended. "You never told me it's permanent! I've seen it there for years, but you never said."
She went back to her art. When she was called to go to bed, she was upset to leave her drawing. She told her father, "I drew Buttopolis! There is a mommy butt and two baby butts, dozing." I haven't washed the butts off my leg yet.
3 comments:
You could always mention that a preoccupation with butts would open her to the charge of being a Butthead. Not that there's anything WRONG with that, just sayin'
This was awesome. Butts FTW.
Today O stumbled across another blog that refers to Starbuck's (of the coffee stuff), as Scarbutts and I couldn't help but think of you.
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