Because the fact is that Drew can't read this blog on his own. I highly doubt that he could even make it to the web address.
Before our children can read or spell, we feel a certain amount of security. And rightly so. Because they don't have a freakin' clue what we are talking about! It's the same thing that happens to you every time you walk into a nail salon.
Parents can feel comfortable saying in front of their young children,
I was thinking that S-A-N-T-A could get that B-I-K-E.
We are going to the D-O-C-T-O-R later for S-H-O-T-S.
John, quit acting like an A-S-S in front of the kids.
I apply this same doctrine to the continuous exploits of my preschooler on the world wide web in my blog. I'm safe. He can't read. He will never know. You like pedicure today? It make you look nice.
After work, I went to Drew's preschool at prime-time-pickup-time, as was evident by several other parents also arriving to collect their toddlers.
Drew was on a mission. It was premeditated. He didn't waste any time with the usual small talk. No "My Mommy's here!" or "I pooped in the potty today!", but instead, he went straight for the jugular.
He ran over to me and lifted up my dress - exposing all my glory to God and everybody. Awesome. I tried to move so that he would let go, but he has fingers of steel, I tell ya.
Okay. I'm not saying that the two teachers, preschool director, four parents and seventeen three-year-olds were humiliated by the unveiling of my lilly white, cottage cheese dimpled, black thong wearin' butt.... I'm just saying that I was.
Below is a photo of me, post-preschool-peep-show. I'm overshooting it, I know. But I was trying to act like it didn't bother me that Caitlin's mother was sitting at the dinner table and hysterically laughing about what happened to Drew's Mom today.
|Don't let that Mary Poppins pose fool you. I was mortified.|
See how quickly and easily a bare fanny could be exposed in an outfit like this if the blog subject was vengeful enough?
DANG. I'd hate to see what Faith Hill would do if she got a hold of me. Instead of This Kiss, it would be more like KISS THIS!
If you are not a blogger, then be grateful. Because when you make the conscious choice to expose your friends and family on the internet, bad stuff is bound to happen to you.
Even if your Aunt Sally doesn't egg your house after reading about her Christmas day flatulence, you cannot assume that you are safe. Because the universe will find a way to punish you. It's called karma, people. And it HATES bloggers.
So on Monday morning, I won't walk into preschool with my head held quite as high as before the peep show incident. But I will be wearing pants. And a belt.