Today, as we were pulling into the car wash building and the car was getting its scrub down before the big blue cloth octopus arm attack, I heard the following from the back seat:
"We're married! Now we have to smoosh." And then? A LOT of giggling.
I looked in the rearview mirror and saw two smallish brother boys, lip-locked, shaking uncontrollably because they were laughing so hard.
According to them, after you get married, you do a lot of smooshing. The older of the two even protested when his younger brother pulled away because "I need the practice if I'm going to have a girlfriend and smoosh with her."
Never, in a million, billion, trillion years, would I have EVER thought of grabbing my brother to rehearse kissing*. I'd have rather given up my Teen Beat and Sean Cassidy posters than even THINK about planting one on him.
So, it came as quite a shock to me that my boys would find the need to get in some early training. Somehow, in my female brain, I thought it was only the girls who accosted pillows and teddy bears in search of the perfect pre-kiss try out pad.
My one consolation is the fact that, if they tell anyone they practiced "smooshing", the other party will crinkle their forehead in confusion.
After all, I've heard you can "smooch" and I found out you can "osculate" and "buss", but any merging of all these terms still doesn't yield a defintion of kissing that equals "smoosh".
I guess that's true, unless you are a Nowell, need a little pre-girlfriend lip action, and don't have a handy stuffed animal to prey upon.
*No offense, bro. But, ewwwwwwwwwww.
No comments:
Post a Comment