As the only female in a house full of boys, I had to accept long ago that our house would be overflowing with potty talk (literally* and figuratively). When Jimmy was a baby, I teased a friend for having her sons refer to farts as “bongos.” By the time Jimmy was old enough to find humor in bodily functions, I quickly understood her logic. We too adapted the “bongo” technique. 
It was much more discrete to walk through a store with yells of…
“I just bongo’d.”
“I bongo’d free (3) times!”
“My bongo sounds like thunder.”
Rather than…
“I farted. I farted. I faaaaaaaart-ed.”
“I cut the three cheese pizza.”
“Did you hear that thunder from down under??”
Speaking of shopping, I once found a shirt with a picture of monkeys on the front and BONGO BROTHERS in a large font. Best. Find. Ever. And no one knew why I chuckled every time I looked at it. But I digress…
By the time Greg came along, I was eternally grateful to my friend for the “bongo” tip. It saved many an embarrassing moment. Especially when in the midst of a crowd and hearing the bellow of, “Mommy! Did you bongo???” I could just laugh and pretend to play drums. (And NO, I did NOT bongo. Girls do not bongo.)
Boys may think farts are funny, but poop? Now that is a source of pride. They have no qualms spouting off details about their grunt sculpture. I always know who finished his serving of corn the night before, who dropped something the size of a forearm and who needs to refer to it as #3.
Once while driving home, one who shall remain nameless (although I’m not sure why since, you know, poo pride) had to poop. Urgently. He finally yelled, “Hurry! I’m playing whack-a-mole back here!” I will never look at that carnival game the same again.
My least favorite is the reference of “dropping the kids off at the pool.” That brings back horrid memories of once finding floating evidence that someone had dropped their kid off at the pool while I was IN THE POOL (No, not my kid. I mean not my kid’s kid. I mean not my kid’s poop. Whatever.).
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I said I’d never write about poop and now I have. More than once. But it’s all Cottonelle’s fault this time! They asked me to review do a review as part of their #letstalkbums campaign (if you landed here because you Googled “let stalk bums,” you may leave now. Right now.)
I am sure I was selected because, well, four sons automatically makes one a potty expert. I am, after all, the one who improved the common “If you sprinkle when you tinkle” jingle by adding a second verse.
“If you splat when you shat, after you flush please use the brush.”
I bought my Cottonelle® Flushable Cleansing Cloths with Clean Care toilet paper at CVS. I must admit I was a bit skeptical at first about the Cleansing Cloths – because “adult baby wipes” came to mind – but, honestly, it makes sense. You wouldn’t wash your hands with a dry paper towel, right?
I’ve always been a bit of a TP snob. I hate the public restroom rolls. Not enough to bring my own roll in my purse, but Cottonelle Clean Care makes that thought more tempting. It is even made with 100% virgin fibers. Because you don’t want any recycled fibers on your bum! (If you Googled anything to do with public restrooms or tempting virgins to get here, you can also leave. And shame on you.)
*Read about when our house literally overflowed in the post “Can’t Make This Sh*t Up!”
If at first you don’t succeed, flush, flush again.
Nothing worse than a floater in a pool. The one I found once merrily making its way around the rapids at an aqua park in Italy was particularly vile. I did a good bit of sunbathing and very little swimming that day. Who wants to share a pool with somebody else’s ‘kid’? Eew.
Your boys may be gross, but they are hilarious. Whack-a-mole?!? Ha!
OMG dropping the kids off is a fave around here and it’s like nails on a chalkboard to me. Especially, when they get creative with it… I mean like they’ll say dropping the teenagers off when it’s a big one! YUCK! I am a fan of turtlehead though, so go figure.
I have two boys, three if I include my husband. My daughter and I dream of having a bathroom all to ourselves. Having a dinner conversation without so much bathroom talk would be lovely too! Thanks for the info and coupon! Will try!
Hilari-ass. I love when a post like this is actually FUNNY. Good job!
p.s. I have 2 little girls who are BONGO experts! 😉
I love the BONGO idea! That’s awesome! Whack-a-mole is brilliant imagery — honestly that boy’s destined to be a writer! :o) And thanks for the coupon!
Oh! I laughed so hard while reading this post! I have an almost 3 year old and 32 year old hubby and they have their own Bongo Band. Ewww.
I wish I had gotten the bongo tip YEARS ago.
Hilarious! Whack-a-mole is my favorite. Very creative kids!! 🙂
“I cut the three cheese pizza…” hahahaha! That’s too funny. And bongo’d. That’s good. Oh yes, the Cottonelle wipes! I did some jingles for an online ad campaign for them. I think they’re still up on my youtube page. Trés silly!
Crying laughing at bongo, my kids say did you air poo which I also find quite hilarious. I will not accept floaters in the pool I can not deal! This whole post turning into an advertisement for toilet paper makes this even more hilarious I pretty much LOVE YOU!
I love this post, so funny. I love the bongo tip, I wish I would have know about it when my kids were little.
OMG my son just like within the last two months has said how funny gas is. Like, he was saying farts and we made him say gas, thinking it was better but NOOOO b/c everybody knows what “I had a gas and it’s funny” means. Bongo is brilliant and I will never ever think about whack-a-mole the same ever. or turtles.
Haha, I forgot about turtles. They refer to it as “turtle head” too. Boy, oh boy. Or boy, oh boys.
Ohhhmygod…I LOVE the BONGO idea! I have a friend whose mother made them call farts “fluffies.” So, in the store, they’d have to yell, “Mommm! Brother just fluffied on my doll!!! Bongos seems far more apropos. My son and husband play bongos extremely well, for not having had one lesson…well, *those* bongos, not actual bongos. Funny piece! Also, I write about poop too…so don’t feel bad 🙂 http://incredulousmom.com/2014/07/05/three-ways-motherhood-made-me-lame/