My sister Alicia was recently in the hospital for kidney stones. She had a pretty sizable one gumming up the works so the doctor had to go in and shoot the little fucker up in a urology drive-by, then place a stent. She has the strings for the stent taped to her legs, which resulted in the following text conversation:
Me: Little girls and I might come out so they can leave more shit at ur house
Alicia: OK sounds good lol. I can't put on real pants because there are these strings and they pull so I will be stuck in the house tomorrow. Shorts are the only things that do not pull them in.
Me: Sweet. Is that your pull string like Woody? What do you say?
A: Ha ha ha you pull them and you will hear an adult version of Woody. It would probably start with a little prayer like Jesus Christ and then Mother fucker would soon follow.
Me: So a religious Woody? Great. My kids need a little Satan beaten out of them and what better way to do that than a demented Woody. Religion AND turning them away from the Disney brainwashing machine? WINNING.
A: Kind of, I would be like the toys you see on the news that people are all up in arms because it sounds like it's saying fuck but I would really be saying fuck.
As you can see, crazy runs in the family. So what better way to celebrate kidney stones than with baked goods? Of course I went there. She baked me a fucking cake. Why wouldn't I make cake ball kidney stones?
Enlarged to show details, and sparkly, of course. Again, why is there not a business to make these? There appears to be a pretty solid, wide-open market for this kind of thing...
So to make these cake balls, I was Googling pictures of kidney stones because I had no fucking clue what they looked like. Charlie was looking over my shoulder and saw them, so I explained what little I knew about them and that Alicia had had surgery because she was having problems peeing (simplest explanation I could come up with). Charlie got very serious then and leaned over and told me, "I have to whisper this so Daddy can't hear."
Me: Um, OK.
C, leaning in to whisper: You know how when you get older and sometimes you bleed when you are going potty? Maybe that is what was happening. Maybe she doesn't need surgery and you just need to tell her about that.
Me: You mean her period? This was definitely not her period, Charlie. And I'm pretty sure Daddy knows about periods. It's OK for him to hear about them.
Bless her little heart. As much as that child makes me want to tear my hair out, she has a heart of gold. She and her sister even "let" Aunt Alicia win at Connect Four, because she just had surgery and all. Baked goods to celebrate surgical procedures aside, I must be doing something right here.