A Tuna Butt Walks into a Bar

Otis: Mom, let me see your tuna butt.

Me: My tuna butt?

Otis: (turning me around so he can see my butt) Yes, the tuna butt!

Mark: What is he talking about?

I have no clue. And I know I need to figure it out quickly because if you don’t know what Otis is talking about things get crazy fast.

So I fake it.

Me: The TUNA BUTT!!! OF COURSE!!! (shrug my shoulders at Mark and hope he knows to play along)

Otis: YES! THE TUNA BUTT!!!!

Me: 

Otis: 

Mark: 

I changed the conversation quickly because if it became obvious that I had no clue what a tuna butt was then I’d be in big trouble with the Littlest Boss.

We went on the rest of the night uneventfully. Until bedtime.

Otis: Mom. Where’s the tuna butt?

Oh dear. I really wanted to sleep.

Me: 

Otis: (speaking slower) Where is the turd in your butt?

Me: Wait. What? The turd? In my butt?

Otis: Yes! The turd in your butt!

Me: (yelling downstairs to Mark) Tuna butt is TURD IN YOUR BUTT!!!!!!!! I FIGURED IT OUT!!!!!!!!!! I’M THE BEST MOM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!!!!!!!

Mark: You two are so weird.

Once I got over the ecstasy of knowing what my kid is talking about, I had lots of questions.

  • Where did he learn about turds?
  • Why is he looking for them?
  • Is this a high level fart joke?
  • Is my kid a comedic genius?
  • He’s my kid. OF COURSE HE’S A COMEDIC GENIUS.

And with that, I’ll end this post with…

TUNA BUTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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