We’ve got a Royal Rumpus pair for July. Pediatrician Kathy from Texas, shares with us this bath time tale… 
My two boys are 4 years apart, and I remember thinking as I fell asleep one day that I have turned into one of those haggard crazy moms you see in comic strips. The crazy hair, disheveled look, shouting nonsense, the whole bit. And how did I get there?
BATH TIME. We always bathe the boys together, and I do “fast bath,” meaning a military style, wash body, hair, rinse, and out of tub in approximately 90 seconds if all goes well. But it usually doesn’t. This time it was because of the penis. They were age 2 and 6. Big brother always gets bath first, with little brother in bath playing briefly til it’s his turn. Usually a toy, or his belly button, or penis is entertaining enough, but on this night it wasn’t, so little bro decided he had to bother big brother penis. So as I’m doing bath, he first starts flicking his big bro’s penis, first from one side,then another. Each time mom yelled to stop big brother would giggle, and the whole game was even funnier. Soon big brother was trying to flick little bro’s penis, which was surprisingly difficult as little bro was very quick. After about 3-4 minutes of what now sounds very amusing, mom lost her temper and shouted “NO ONE NEEDS TO TOUCH ANYONE’S PENIS. EVER. OR YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE.” Just one of those silly sentences you’d never think you’d be shouting. You feel like you are still a reasonably cool woman, who listens to NPR, can talk intelligently with a sommelier, who can negotiate business deals and then go straight to soccer practice. But you still have to shout ridiculous things about penises when you have two little boys in your house. Got a beastly tale to tell? Once a month Konga Line shall crown a wonderfully beastly boy Rumpus King and a gloriously beastly girl, Rumpus Queen. Send in stories of your little goblins for a chance at the crown. If your mini-monster is named Rumpus Royalty, I’ll post your terrible tale and send you a fabulous FREE KONGA TEE of your choice.
Oooooooh! This is hilarious and SO familiar! I have only one child and she’s a girl, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t sprouted my fair share of strang sentences that will only appear normal to other providors of primary child care.
After a full day of taking care of a “delightful” child with an excruciating sense of timing enabling her to go “Mommeeeeeeh?!!?!??!?!” within seconds of my behind touching any type of seating, I’ve been known to utter: “Unless there’s blood or fire involved, the answer is NO!”
I’ve also come to embrace the belief that as soon as we hit motherhood, we get abducted by aliens. These sneaky creatures from outer space don’t install probes. Oh, no. They are too cruel for that. They insert a “seating sensor” inside each and every mother. They abduct the kids too, and fit them out with the receiver. As soon as your gluteal muscles come into direct contact with the comfortable surface of anything even remotely suited to the restful position we Earthlings refer to as “sitting” our offspring gets a signal and automatically responds: “Mommeeeeeh??!?!!???”
What I find peculiar is when my kid and I are hanging in the same room, or we are walking along just the two of us, and he always precedes whatever he has to say with a questioning “Mom?” As if I would not know he was talking to me unless he first says, “Mom.”
And then there’s this other peculiar reaction I have, which is whenever some other kid is calling “MOM!” my ears perk up and my head turns automatically.