[Insert Granola Bar Here]

You know that commercial for the granola bars about how kids always say the most inappropriate things at the wrong times (or whatever), and Quaker’s solution was that you shove a granola bar in their mouths?

I always thought I would be a bad parent because that commercial cracked me up. It didn’t crack me up in a “cute kids, glad they aren’t mine”-way, but in a jumping up off the couch, screaming “holy mother of pearl, I want those kids!” manner. Kids that say what’s on their minds and speak the truth – two things I value in myself, so why wouldn’t I value that in my carbon copies?

Because I am an asshole, that’s why.

Lately, the little Pookies proved time and again that blunt and brazen is sometimes awkward. I mean, I still find it hilarious – so much so that I’m thinking about patenting it and calling them “Pookie-isms.” But I’m pretty sure some philanthropic action group devoted to preventing kids from becoming jerks like me would probably get involved.

You decide:

Pookie-isms At Home

On Valentine’s Day, my husband made a commitment to be home on time and have a nice meal with us. He is pretty addicted to his job – answering the phone in the middle of the night even and scheduling all of our vacation time around work projects – so this was a really big deal.

And then he ran into traffic on the way home that fated V-Day and showed up about an hour late. An hour late for him is roughly 8:30 at night – way too late for us to eat dinner, so we had eaten and saved a plate for him, growing angrier and angrier by the minute. He walked in the door around 8:28 and I will never forget what Pookies said as she ran to the door:

“Oh man, you are in the hot seat. She is so mad even her boobs are sweating!”

Pookie-isms At the Grocery Store

Last week or so we were grocery shopping and – as usual – got way more groceries than we needed. I have this thing where I go to the store with a list but then see stuff I forget that we have and think we need; and then before I know it our cart is full and hard to push.

This lady Gloria who is always working on the check stands and has an annoyed attitude all the time gave me this look like I was committing a crime by putting that many groceries on the conveyer belt, and (of course) Pookies noticed.

As we drove away from the grocery store, she said to me: “Momma, do you think that lady was upset because of us, or because she was thinking about the fact that she forgot to shave off her beard this morning?”

Pookie-isms At Dinner

Tonight we ate dinner with my dad. I wasn’t very hungry because it is hot and we had a big lunch; but he was so hungry and we were just hanging around his house doing our laundry for free (versus our $3.50 a load at apartment laundry room), so I figured we’d go along for the ride.

Something about my father that has always driven me crazy is he refuses to run the air conditioner in his car. As I said, today was a particularly hot day, so this was annoying, though the ride was relatively short.

Walking into the cafe, though, Pookies announced as loudly as I think she could have possibly spoken: “”No … you don’t understand – it is so hot in the backseat of that car that my crotch is all sweaty now.”

Pookie-isms With the Grandparents

A few weeks ago my dad was babysitting while I went to get my nails done. As usual, he just went about his daily business – errands, grocery store, post office. Pookies always like to get the mail for him, though, at the post office, and apparently as the envelopes of bills and letters and magazines were being handed over to him, in the crowded post office, a Pookie-ism ripped out so loud even the postal worker snickered: “Grandpa, I think whoever this lady that sent you this card is has the hots for you. She wrote your name in cursive and it smells like lady perfume and junk.”

It was a card from my Great Aunt Dorothy.

Pookie-isms on Personal Hygiene

“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to shave my legs so we can have contests to see whose leg hair gets more grotesque.”

Pookie-isms on Having Babies

“Momma, is the doctor going to cut the baby out of that lady’s tummy soon? Because it looks like the baby may fall out of her.”

Pookie-isms on Children’s Programming

“Caillou is so whiney it makes me want to barf.”

“Do you think maybe the Duncan family has had a few too many babies?” (Good Luck Charlie)

“Maybe Dino Dan would be less of a pansy if he had a dad.”

Pookie-isms on Growing Up Like Mom

“Man, I really hope my boobs aren’t as big as yours when I grow up.”

Somewhat Topical Pookie-isms

By “somewhat topical,” I of course mean reflecting things I seem to talk about all the time. In other words: hillbillies.

I realized shortly after I started blogging that I rail on about hillbillies a lot – likely because it seems our community is overrun by them. Four-by-fours everywhere. People wearing no shirts, riding those little bikes with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths. All sorts of deadbeat dads shirking their child support payments (our county is one of the highest rates in California).

Earlier this week, while driving down the street on the way to swimming class, Pookies was trying to decide what she wanted to have for lunch after class. She waffled between typical kid foods: macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and nutella sandwich; then she whipped out with a Pookie-ism: “Of course, if I was a total hillbilly I would want a hot dog covered in slaw, mustard, and chili. Then I’d puke it out right in the front yard.”

Indeed.

So I suppose the granola bar commercial is right. When the mouths of babes open: