When you think about it, Otto’s got a pretty tough row to hoe when it comes to our family. Despite my efforts, sometimes I’m sure it just can’t help but feel like three against one. The kids and I were a unit for a long time before Otto joined us, and no matter how much they all love each other (“Awww, honey, if she’s being an insufferable brat to you that means she’s BONDED!”), the fact remains that sometimes I’m sure he still feels a little bit picked on.
Of course, this might just be because the kids and I are jerks, and not have anything to do with our blended family status. It’s hard to know, really.
This is a necessary preface so that you understand what happened last night at dinner. Actually, I guess there’s one more piece I have to explain.
I? Have some junk in the trunk. My hips don’t lie, but they do try to expand at every possible opportunity. After a young adulthood spent being a lovely hourglass shape, I am now on the middle-aged slide into peardom.
My genetics = ample assitude, is my point.
While we are not going to discuss my children’s hindquarters in detail—because that is too weird even for me—suffice it to say that all rumps related to mine are present and accounted for.
Otto, on the other hand… shall we say… lacks padding. If he doesn’t wear a belt, his pants fall off. And let’s just say that those of us who have NEVER HAD THAT PROBLEM find this an endless source of amusement. It’s possible that any discussion that ever even-so-remotely touches (ha!) on backsides tends to result in snickering children offering to save their allowance to buy Otto a prosthetic butt.
They’re all heart, my kids.
Anyway. Last night at dinner, it was Monkey’s turn to say grace. Otto had grilled, and Chickadee had cut up veggies, and a perfect end-of-summer meal lay spread across the table, waiting for us.
“Dear God, thank you for my family and my friends and the dog and hotdogs and hamburgers and peppers. Amen!” We all echoed “amen” and fell to putting food on our plates.
“AND BUTTOCKS!” Monkey burst out, unexpectedly. Otto and I both turned to him and made the universal “what the hell?” gesture (that would be: puzzled expression, arms bent at the elbow, palms facing upward as if to receive whatever explanation could possibly be offered) at him. Monkey giggled and Chickadee immediately put her head down to hide her face.
“Dude,” I said, finally, “this is a new record. We JUST STARTED dinner. We do not discuss buttocks at the dinner table.” He continued giggling, but nodded.
“Sorry, Mom,” he managed.
To my right, there was a strangled sort of snorting. Chickadee had raised her head but was now sort of holding her hands to the right side of her face, effectively shielding her expression (and mouth) from Otto’s view. “Maybe…” she started, then dissolved into giggling again. “Maybe,” she restarted, “he’s just very GRATEFUL for his buttocks. Not everyone HAS buttocks.”
This, of course, was enough to set Monkey off again, and he sprawled backwards in his chair, wracked with laughter. Chickadee left her right hand up, shielding her face from Otto—who was alternately glaring at her and giving me the “are you going to do something about this?” look—and used her left hand to bring her glass of milk up to stifle her giggles with a swig.
“OTTO HAS NO BUTT!” Monkey crowed, before collapsing back again, while Chickadee held her glass steady against her lips, trying so hard not to laugh. Otto’s pointed stare grew even more pointed, while I sat across from him, head inclined partially downward, trying not to meet his gaze, needing every ounce of willpower not to join in the laughter.
“That’s not nice, Monkey,” chided Chickadee, playing the moral superiority card, which was impressive considering that she’d basically instigated this entire exchange.
Otto continued waiting for me to handle this mayhem. Finally I had to step up.
“That’s true, Monkey,” I finally managed, hitting just the right note of consternation. “It’s really not nice to mock the assless.”
At this I could hold in the laughter no longer, and as Chickadee choked on her milk and Monkey roared (I’d not only joined in, I’d SAID A BAD WORD!), Otto gave ME the “what the hell” gesture while exclaiming “WIFE!”
“I love you,” I gasped, trying to compose myself. This was met with fresh guffaws by the children, and a head shake by Otto.
“Whatever,” he finally said.
“Aww, it’s okay, Otto,” Monkey said, patting his arm. “We love you even though you don’t have buttocks.”
“STOP TALKING,” said Otto. “I AM TRYING TO EAT MY DINNER.”
Some say he was a saint to sign up for two kids, but the truth is that he was a saint to sign up for ME. The kids are really the least of his problems. I mean, when it was just me and the kids, I had to be the adult all the time. But now I have Otto, so… Honey? Sweetie? Where are you going?? I LOVE YOU!
That had to be one of the best laughs I have had in a long time. Thanks!
Bwahaha! TOTALLY with you!!
LMAO – yes, never mock the assless ;). But seriously, why is it that only men are assless! I’ve never met an assless woman. Yes, now I’m just having fun writing assless as many times as possible ;)
Well, you and the kids could always work on a remixed version of that famous Sir Mix-A-Lot song, only it would start, “I like small butts and I cannot lie!”
Oh, this brings back memories of mocking my poor, assless Dad!
Hahahahahahaha! Ahem. I mean, poor Otto.
Poor Otto! You are never EVER allowed to doubt EVER that, that man loves you and/or your kids!
It’s a new comedy in the making… The Old and the Assless
I’m thinking this would be a great name for a “Mir” version of the soap opera “The Young and the Restless: The Young and the Assless”*.
*I included you in the young. You are welcome.
Well. Now we know where warped sense of humors are stored. ASK ME HOW I KNOW! ;-)
Good to know there is another husband out there that uses “Wife” regularly. Mine usually says it when he wants to reign in my hysterics…. as in, “Wife. Really, I don’t think the kids will develop rickets because this meal does not include a veggie and a fruit”.
He is also ass-less. Perhaps this is not a coincidence.
My mom once told me that my dad had to take Noassitol to try and cure his pants falling down problem. She thought it was funny – he did not.
Oh the wonderful irony of this post juxtaposed with your post at the new CafeMom gig! Love your family moments!!
LMFAO! Well, *trying* to laugh it off, anyway. Or at least laugh off some of the trunk-junk. Thank you!!!!!
Thanks! I needed a good laugh this morning. I’m just glad I don’t have to explain my uncontrolled giggles to my 12 yo son!
Poor Otto, indeed, particularly as Otto is inseparable from bottom….
It’s a good job I didn’t take a swig of milk with Chickie. I’d have spit it all over my monitor!
We used to describe assless guys as “needing two handkerchiefs and a wallet” to keep fit into a pair of pants. I think we stole it from George Carlin. Or maybe Cheech and Chong.
I would gladly donate some of my butt to Otto if he needs it. It could be a win/win situation!
Speaking for the genetically assless, I protest this treatment of one of my brethren!
Well, I do after picking myself up off the floor from laughing :)
Man! I could have used dinnertime with you all last night!!!
I’m speechless. and laughing way too hard while my kidlets are napping.
We have family members that are similarly designed. I have enough butt for everyone though!
Otto, they reaaalllllly do love you! I know it’s sometimes hard to recognize the love, but it’s there, I promise. And I didn’t laugh (all that hard)!
Sooo ummmm will he come home from work today or maybe not???
We also have the same issue. Or as we call it – buttless. Not because we have any vocabulary standards – we are a household of adults, and until my son moved on we had ‘F*** you Fridays. On the first dinner we tried that, SO’s daughter almost hit the floor. I love laughter at dinner. So much less of it these days with son gone. Sigh.
I know that if I make a comment, I am prone to making an ass OF myself, but I just wish I could make an ass FOR myself.
Really, if you haven’t suffered from this malady, you will never understand. I can’t just pull on a pair of jeans and go … because they’ll fall down. I have to go through all the trouble of finding a belt Every Single Day. And sometimes I have to modify the belt because if I have eaten too much or too little, my belt size may be BETWEEN the pre-stamped holes.
It’s aweful, I tell you. I can’t dive into a pool for fear of losing my shorts.
Hmm. Maybe I did just make an ass OF myself there …
My side of the family has Otto’s backside issues. My girls have none-yet-for which they will one day be grateful. So, you can mix it up and do what we do -Chase after him with fingers like pincers screaming “Tiny heiney, tiny heiney.”
Have you seen that King of the Hill where Hank gets a prosthetic butt? If not, that could totally be something you watch together as a family. (I’m assuming you can Netflix it on your Roku, since we watched it on Netflix: season 5 & episode 19)
That said, I have a husband who truly needs a belt every day as well, and sometimes that doesn’t even help. I mean, how can the belt really help with it’s basically just holding up some cloth around a single-sized area? *sighs* Hank went to a support group for this malady, so maybe the assless husbands of the world can do this as well…
My boys suffer from the same affliction. If it weren’t for adjustable waist pants, I’m not sure how they’d cope because OMG! Belts! Sensory bad!
Yet another example of the persecution of a faultless minority by a ruthless majority.
Otto may be forced to become a rebel without a butt.
Have you considered putting a camera, like a fly on the wall, to televise your dinners?
Noah and Josie share Otto’s tragic condition.
In fact, the last time we were at the playground, Noah’s shorts slipped all the way down his butt ON THE SWING. Fortunately, at 5, he still finds this funny.
However, my children are gigantically tall, as well as less well-endowed in the rear. Josie turned 3 years old 3 weeks ago, and her 3-K pants all look like capris. I am on a mission for long clothes with elastic waistbands.
Oh, that made me laugh so hard! Poor Otto …
Soooo funny! At least the assless know they have an ally in you ;)
Stop! Stop! My stomach hurts!