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College Fund/Therapy Fund, Whatever

My youngest child recently potty trained. By my calculations over the past 13 years I have changed 38,325 diapers, give or take a few. No wonder I am tired.

Seeing my youngest wearing his tiny little boxer briefs I am overcome with the desire to pinch his little buns. He mostly tolerates it. Though I think it is wearing on him. He feels like a big kid now. Even asking me to leave the bathroom after hoisting him up onto his potty seat, because he needs privacy.

He will be standing there innocently enough, playing, watching tv, talking and suddenly I will say, "Do you know what I am in the mood for?"

His eyes get big and wide. "Noooooooo," he will laugh and run away.

"Miles, do you know what I am in the mood for?" I will shout as I begin the chase.


"Nooooooooo, it's all gone!" he shouts over his shoulders, his hands covering up his little butt.

"I'm in the mood for...CINNAMON BUNS!!" And with that I will grab him and tickle him. And yes, squeeze those adorable little buns. How could I not?

"No, I not have cimanim buns. It is just my body." He will say very seriously, looking at me like I am crazy.

Thirty years from now I imagine him sitting in his therapist's office, "Doctor I have no idea why I have this intense and irrational hatred for Cinnabons, I just do."

But really, I dare you to resist.


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