SCARECROWS

I think I need to install parental controls on my computer.

I’m pretty sure Dylan has been reading  The Bloggess.

Which would be cool, if he was 30 and I could pretend he has no idea what a vagina was.

But at 4, I don’t think he needs lessons on Coochy Shaving Cream or Giant Labias.

Maybe I’m just a prude.

Anyway, the other night he ended up in bed with us.

And I swear to fucking god he yelled out “SCARECROWS!” in his sleep.

And EVERYONE knows that scarecrows are pretty much the 4 year old equivalent to Wolverines.

So, The Bloggess will now be blocked to those who don’t know the password (which will be: “Squidvaginaone-eyed-pirates-named-Stevelabiabeaverflashasianneighbor“, which is thanks to Houston, in case you need to know it)

Because, really, I don’t want to have to deal with explaining fisting to my preschooler.

Related posts:

1. In Which I BEG for Parenting Advice
2. The Boogey Man Lives
3. I’m Not as Mature as I’d Hoped
4. It’s My Party
5. Gak! Where’d I Put My Drill? I NEED My Drill!