The day got off to a rocky start. I had to drive Francie to the ENT for a checkup on her ear tubes. We spent the entire car ride fighting about what song to listen to. At one point, “De-lovely” went head to head with Ke$ha’s “Die Young,” which is a positively hateful piece of music, if I can even call it that.
How low have  I sunk that I let Cole Porter do battle with Ke$ha?
Once we were in the doctor’s office, Sidney charmed everyone by singing “I’m a little teapot.” Except that she substituted the word “penis” for “teapot.” Yeah, that went down really well. I suspect this was all the work of Francie, and especially Fiona, authoress of such classics as “Little Red Penis Hood.”
I kid you not.
The doctor smiled awkwardly and said, “Oh, potty mouth!” More like genital mouth, if you ask me. But nobody did.
In other news, we are in the middle of (American) football season here. I came home from my trip to find this in the boys’ bathroom:

On one side are players from the NFC, on the other, players from the AFC. I’m not certain that I got that right, but given that I still can’t quite work out how the game is played, I’m rather impressed with myself. Now, the boys can sit in style and stare at the faces of these fine, upstanding role models as they do their business.
It’s all a melange of stuff around here: sports in the potty, potty at the doctor’s office. We just can’t keep it straight.
Perhaps that ought to be my New Year’s resolution. Along with not getting pregnant, of course… which got increasingly more challenging after I watched the Christmas special of “Call the Midwife.” I could gestate just watching that show. Thank goodness the season is over.
For now.