What I’m about to tell you is a true story. No pickles or pusses where harmed in the writing of this story, but some parenting dignity might be bruised.
There’s this series of books called SkippyJon Jones. If you don’t know about them, the premise is that there is a Siamese cat who thinks he’s a Chihuahua. Little SkippyJon goes on all kinds of imaginary adventures with his los Chimichangos who are from Mexico, complete with accents. Every book is a crazy rhyming ride and guaranteed to have everyone in the family rolling with laughter, especially if you attempt the accents.
But here’s the thing, SkippyJon doesn’t always say the best things for a four year old brain. For example, in Skippyjon Jones and the Big Bones, SkippyJon at one point says, “And then I popped a pickle in my puss.”
Clearly SkippyJon meant his mouth, which was innocent to a four year old. However, to warped young (and old) adult minds (I’m looking at you A and S, E’s older sisters), this created rounds of hysteria for the entire Christmas holiday. So, that only reinforced that the four year old needed to say it.
Fast forward to this week and we are standing in line behind a father and his young son waiting to get back into the locker room after swim class. Out of nowhere, my four year old looks the dad right in the eyes and loudly declares:
I have a pickle in my puss!
Now, I don’t embarrass easily, but I felt the fire burning in my face as the mortified dad said (no lie), “You have a pickle WHERE?!”
I pushed E into the crowded locker room where she loudly declared to all of the parents and children, “I SAID, I have a PICKLE IN MY PUSS.”
Have you ever tried to back pedal your way out of a “pickle in your puss” situation? Yeah, I didn’t think so…