Life Goes On

"There I am in younger days, star gazing, 

painting picture perfect maps of how my life and love would be

Not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection

My compass, faith in love's perfection
I missed ten million miles of road I should have seen."

 -- Indigo Girls

Tonight I was talking with a friend and found myself sharing the details of the day my father died. It snuck up on me a little, this diving into a memory so sacred and sad.

My dad was one of the finest people I've ever had the pleasure to know. To be breezy about it, I thank my mom a lot for choosing him as my father. To be more authentically deep, I must have done something really special in a former life to have been blessed with this person as my caregiver. As if God rewarded my past life behavior with not only a blue ribbon, but also a championship trophy and a full-ride scholarship to the world's best university.

He really was that great. Ask anyone who knew him.

I vividly remember that April morning, waking up to a phone call from my sister, "You have to come. Get here now." I was in San Francisco, my father was lying in a hospital in Seattle. I moved mechanically around my room, packing inadequately for what I knew was going to be a bring-you-to-your-knees, change-everything kind of day.

I held my breath. I hit Pause. I floated through that journey to the airport, on the plane, and landed in Seattle greeted by two sisters, eyes red-rimmed with the enormity of it all. This necessary loss that was supposed to happen when he's 98 and we're all grown and settled and secure with families of our own. And after he saw us all married, walked us down the aisle to our grooms. After he met all our children. After all that. Not now, not yet.

Life does not take orders.

I survived my father's death. I continue. Someone, or some thing, un-Paused my life and it kept moving. It keeps moving. I did get married, walked down the aisle by my father's brother into the arms of my father's father who presented me to my darling groom. I have children of my own. One is named for my father.

But...would I have my life today if my father hadn't have died when he died in the way he died?

If I am to be truly in love with my life today, and I am, then I must love and embrace all that came before. For this is the path that led me here.

And here looks pretty damn good:

Smiley

Turbo

Not Facebook

It's Dec 10 and this is my seventh post of the month. While it's not posting every day as I set out to do, it's still wildly successful to where I was for the bulk of 2013. When I got out of the habit of writing several times a week, I replaced the real writing with mini posts on Facebook about the antics of Turbo and Smiley. As I was doing these abbreviated Facebook entries, I was still writing the backstory in my head. It felt lazy and I carried the guilt. 

This blog is better for me than Facebook. There is great joy for me to have an itch of an idea work its way to the surface of my brain and then sit down to assemble the jumbled thoughts into something consumable for an audience beyond myself.

Thank you to whomever reads this. Thank you for taking the time to skim or fully consume.

Always Be Closing

It's been a while since I've seen the movie Glengarry Glen Ross, but I do remember one important piece of advice - Always Be Closing.

Our family is going to The Nutcracker this month and mom and dad are excited to share this holiday favorite with our kids. The Pacific Northwest Ballet's production is particularly exciting because the sets are done by Maurice Sendak. I haven't been in years, not since having kids, and I am giddy with excitement to see this Christmas tale again.

Not so much excitement for our boy Turbo. Emphasis on boy.

When we told Turbo we were going to The Nutcracker ballet, I think all he heard was blah-blah-blah ballet, because his only comment was, "Yuck. I don't like girl stuff." And he wrinkled his nose and sneered a little and looked at us like we were nuts.

Then Turbo got invited to a birthday party, which happened to be at the same time as The Nutcracker. When we told Turbo that he couldn't go to his pal's party because we were going to be at the ballet, he reminded us again about his strong dislike for this girl stuff. And he through in some frantic eyebrow maneuvers for good measure.

Last night I took a different approach. I put on my sales and marketing hat and went to work.

Me: "Turbo, we're getting our Christmas tree on Sunday."

Turbo: "Yeah!"

Me: "And then we're going to The Nutcracker in Seattle."

Turbo: "Mom, I already told you. I don't like that girl stuff."

Me: "You might be surprised. Did you know there are bad guys with swords? There is a Rat King who fights some soldiers and maybe some of them even die."

Intrigued eyebrows shot up.

Then Turbo and I watched a YouTube clip of the Rat King fighting with his swords. And Turbo saw what a ballet really was - he pretty much had the wrong idea, whatever that was. I boiled it down to this, "It's people dancing to music with no words and they tell a story. Some of the stories are for girls and some of the stories are something everybody could like."

Sold. Always Be Closing. ABC.

Here is how mom and dad are selling The Nutcracker to our very different children:

Selling ballet to a 5 year old boy

Selling ballet to a girl

Lipsie Returns

She's baaaack!

Last year we started doing the Elf on the Shelf thing with great success for our then 4 year old. This year both kids, now 3 and 5, are totally into the whole experience. Shrieks of delight pepper our quiet morning home each morning as Lipsie's new location is discovered.

Each morning they run downstairs to find Lipsie - still love this name that Turbo chose last year! - and Turbo usually finds he first and then wakes a bleary-eyed-but-smiling Smiley to "let" her find Lipsie too. Turbo is not great at secrets, but, then, what kid is?

Here is Lipsie on day one - with a healthy reminder to mom and dad to get rid of this old plant that decorates a high, forgotten shelf in the kitchen. Three days in and the plant is still there. Yeah, we have other priorities around these parts.

Hey, Lipsie, can your Christmas magic bring that plant back to life?

Cross-cross applesauce in a partially finished Lego toy

Reminding us to wear warm hats on this 20-degree days

Speed Goldbug

Richard Scarry, I love you, but your books are looooong.

When I was a kid, the book titled Cars and Trucks and Things That Go was referred to as "Where's Goldbug?" Because the point of the book was to find this little tiny gold bug on every single page. Sure, there were also fascinating vehicles like the pickle car and the alligator car and the lemon car, but also, cleverly hidden on each and every page, was Goldbug. Often his little eyes and antennae were the only bits of him peaking out of a hot dog or ambulance or train so it could take a while to find him.

Where's Goldbug?

I loved these Richard Scarry books as a kid. I used to spend a lot of time wondering what it would be like to grow up and live in a shoe, or drive a banana mobile, or visit zoos where the animals held balloons. Even today theses books are one of my favorite gifts to give kids, and yet, when my kids are allowed one more book before bed and they choose one of these lengthy tomes, I inwardly groan. To my kids I say, "OK, let's do this." But really I'm checking the clock to see if we even have enough time to get to the middle of the book.

Now don't get me wrong, I really do love the details in these stories and if it's the first book we choose I usually enjoy it as much as the kids. It's when we're done reading and it's truly time for bed and I let the kids talk me into another book (because I also secretly love bed time snuggles and books), that I hope and pray for a shorter read.

Turbo knows this. When he's on his last book, whether it's an extra one or just the last of his allotted 5 books, he seeks out the longest book he can find. In the light of day I'm flattered. He wants to spend extra time with me? Ahh, shucks! But I know what he's doing, cheeky fellow.

Once daddy takes Smiley to bed, Turbo and I have time for one more book with just us. Tonight when the final book selected was the Cars and Trucks, I told him we didn't have enough time to do the whole book.

Turbo: "When I choose a book, we have to read the whole thing."

Mom: "Um, no. But I'll tell you what. We can play Speed Goldbug and do as many pages as we can in five minutes. We won't read the book, but we will look for Goldbug on each page."

Game on. Turns out we both had so much fun finding Goldbug that we laughed our way through the novel and I didn't look at the clock. Nicely done, Mr. Scarry. Nicely done. Thank you for spanning generations and providing opportunities for more quality with my children.

I Know Everything

It's fitting that in the month of the celebration of Jesus's birthday, Turbo would ask me this question, "Mom, when we get to Hawaii, can you teach me how to walk on water?"

Um, sure. I know you think I know everything, kid, but this one is out of my area of expertise.

A little digging and it turns out that one of his classmates surfed in Hawaii. Oh, surfing on water, not walking on water.

I love the kid logic of surfing = walking on water.

Creating New Traditions

I love Christmas.

My childhood Christmases were filled with homemade ornaments, garlands of freshly made popcorn strung with cranberries, and cold boot-wearing treks through snow to chop down our own trees.

And, no, I did not grow up in a Normal Rockwell painting. But it was pretty great, if you ask me.

For the memories of Christmas that I love, I want to repeat all of these treasured details with my own kids and yet I also recognize the value of creating our own traditions.

We live in a neighborhood with lots and lots of houses decorated with lots and lots of Christmas lights. There is also a plethora of lit-up woodland creatures, various snowmen (and snow-women and snow-children), and countless Santas... Construction Santa, Chimney Santa, Sleigh Santa, Shovel Santa, Santa-and-His-Reindeer Santa, Climb-in-Your-Window Santa (erm, the non-creepy kind).

Driving home from the kids' school last night I look at left instead of a right. Turbo, ever my alert observer, said, "Hey. This isn't the way home." To which I quipped, "No s***, Sherlock."

Kidding! Sheesh, I hope you didn't believe me.

To which I replied, "That's right, honey. I thought we'd go see some Christmas light before we go home."

Both Turbo and Smiley squealed with delight at the first house, which, by design of my genius left-instead-of-right move, brought us to one of those thoroughly decorated homes where the owners probably need eye masks to block out the light while sleeping. And I squealed too. I love these crazy decorations. Or, as Smiley said, "Oh, mom! Yook at all dose decowations!"

Sample house. Not actual size or neighborhood. 

I told the kids that we'd go find new Christmas decowations every night after school. We shook hands to make it official.

One day later... on tonight's drive home I was feeling a bit tired from a long day at work and considered driving straight home. Maybe the kids won't remember, said the little voice in my head.

Turbo, "Mom, remember how you said we were going to look at Christmas lights every day? Take a left, mom."

And I took a right, just to show him who is boss, and drove around a few loops near our house and both Turbo and Smiley provided a play-by-play of the lights outside of their respective windows - ya know, in case I wasn't looking at the same set of lights.

I think I'm going to like this new tradition.

Efficiency Amidst Crazy Town

I write every day. Not that you would know this, as my blog has collected dust and cobwebs as of late, but I still write every day... in my mind.

When I first discovered that the voice in my head was my writer's voice, composing witty commentary on every day life, I was thrilled that this voice had a purpose. I admit, laughing awkwardly, that I had from time to time been concerned that I might have uncomfortable similarities to the Russell Crowe character in A Beautiful Mind.

And so I write. I write while I observe the adorable and not so adorable antics of Turbo and Smiley. I write when life surprises me (which is pretty much every day!). I write when I'm sad, I write when I've collapsed into a fit of giggles - or, rather, I write when I've recovered from a fit of giggles.

To paraphrase a Mary Poppins' tune, "I love to write, a-ha-ha-ha, loud and long and clear."

I'm going to challenge myself to blog every day in December. There is always something to share and even if I'm not putting my A work up every day, it's better to have my C work out more frequently. Writing takes practice and patience and willpower some days. I think it was Ted Williams who had the perfect swing and when asked about that natural gift, he answered, "hitting a baseball on a string, in my basement, 200 times a day."

With December comes the added and joyful work of preparing for Christmas and also for our vacation in Hawaii early next year. I am not in a position to take on a new project, but training for a marathon a number of years ago taught me that I can be very efficient when pressed for time.

I know I can do this, I can write every day. This post is my little pep talk to myself. Go, me!

Important

Dear Kids,

If it's important to you, it'll be important to me. I promise to support your passions so long as they don't involve sword swallowing or fire twirling, and even then... I will try to find a way to back you up in your pursuits.

Love,
Mom

Deep Thoughts

by Turbo Handy*

Tonight when I picked up Turbo from school, there was a well-worn paperback in his cubby along with a note, reading, "Please repair or replace." And then an explanation that Turbo had torn the book three times today.

The first tear was an accident, as he was grabbing the book off of a refrigerator (no clarification as to why books are in such cold places), but apparently the next two times were out of 4-year-old curiosity, as in, "say, I wonder what happens when I go like this."

When I asked Turbo why he ripped the book he gave me the most unexpected answer. I have come to depend on the "I don't know" answer and am now proudly skilled at getting a real answer out of my I-don't-know child. I was ready for the "I don't know." I was not ready for the existential dialogue that ensued.

Me: "Turbo, why did you rip this book?"
Turbo: "Because...I don't know what is life."
Me: "What does that mean?"
Turbo, shrugging: "I don't know what it is to be."

Whoa. Wax on, little buddy, wax on.

I did ask him if he'd like me to explain what life is. He said yes, and then I was at a loss for words. I'm going to revisit this important topic tonight at bed time. I love my little philosopher!


*invoking the very funny Jack Handy of SNL fame.

Wishing Wells

Tonight I read a new library book to Turbo. In the book was a shooting star and the two adorable characters made wishes on the star.

Turbo closed his eyes, turned his head to the wall and wished, "I wish that I could live inside your heart."

And so you do, little one. And so you do.

Turning Three

This blog entry might also be titled, Pinkmond.

One of my favorite quips to ever so wisely share with other moms is, "I thought two was hard until I met three."  Well, I'm happy ready to report that this is still right on the money in our home.

Of my two kids, Turbo has been the most challenging. Have you picked up on that? I mean, his nickname is Turbo. This kid loves to push the boundaries and seems to ask with each clever maneuver, "Is this the edge?" "How about this, is this the edge?" Repeat. He's also turning five soon and mellowing considerably. I can take him to movie theaters now (rejoice!), he's easily engaged in the latest Ninjago-Lego-sheriff role-playing games he's excitedly dreamed up, and I can look him squarely in the eye and tell him, "I know what you're up to." And he gets it and smiles back at me.

Smiley, on the other hand, has always been "my easy one." I have tried to avoid this phrase for worry it would creep into my spoken words at home and I would never want Turbo to think he's "the challenging one." Smiley from day one has been textbook on sleeping, eating, everything, and is, almost always, smiling. She is sweet, sweet, sweet.

Oh how the tables have turned. Smiley will be three soon and has found her scream. She startled herself to tears a couple of times by the intensity of her own screams, and looked around in panic for comfort from her mama. I remember asking her on one vociferous occasion, "Did that scream scare you?" "Yes," she nodded and sobbed and held me tight around the neck. Still cute. Still sweet, and now with an edge. A pink, wears-only-dresses, edge.

Earlier today our family was outside enjoying this extended stretch of sunny weather (thank you, weather gods), and my husband and I talked about options for replacing our deck, or at least the boards that are showing ground beneath them and thus creating alarms in my head every time I send the kids outside to play. It's time to get serious about deck repairs. Before long my husband had his tape measure out and both kids showed enthusiasm in their own unquie styles.

Turbo: "Dad, that's my tape measure. Give it to me."
Smiley: "I want a pink tape measure."

Say, they actually make pink tape measures. Can you say, birthday present?

The girl loves pink. And dresses. And sandals. And with her curly hair, one cannot help but conjure up the old nursery rhyme, "there once was a girl, who had a little curl..." Oh, Smiley, please never tip the scales to horrid.

One of my very favorite things about Smiley is that she has so much to say. Before she had the muscles for real words, she would wake each morning as a smiley, happy chatterbox. When she really started talking, probably at the precise moment she turned 2.5, she surprised me with her thoughtful reflections. Had I not been so busy these past 12 months, I probably would have recorded each and every one of them. I've got a lot of time to make up, so here is one fantastic kidlogical-kid logic moment that happened about 60 minutes ago.

INT.  Family Car - Evening
Smiley: "What town are we in?"
Me: "Redmond."
Smiley, with utmost certainty: "No, Pinkmond."

Stealing Thunder

Today is the tenth anniversary of my father's death. That is a very large statement and it requires some exploring and I had planned to write about my father today.

And then Boston happened.

I lost my dad to cancer and while that sucks about a hundred different ways, right now it feels like it pales in comparison to the sudden and shocking loss the families in Boston are experiencing tonight.

Perhaps comparing isn't all that helpful. Grief is grief.

Someone lost their 8 year-old son today. I am rocked with anger about an unnecessary evil that changed the path this family now has to take.

Jerks.

Kid Logic, Kidlogical

They say it takes two to three weeks to either break a bad habit or start a new (presumably) good one.

Well, darn it, I got out of practice with blogging again and I sorely miss it. I like to tell myself you've missed me too. Time to get writing again, even if just to remember how grand it feels to hear the clicks and clacks of my keyboard and how magical it can feel when the words pour from my mind onto these pages.

My darling son Turbo has an inquisitive mind. I love that about him. Or, in Internet-speak, I <3 that about him.

With fresh fruit more abundant at grocery stores these days, my husband and I have started introducing the idea of dessert after a few meals each week. So far, we've had strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Somehow, even though we are far far away from summer, the blackberries have been the overwhelming favorite as they were oh-so-juicy and not even a little bit tart. These kids are in for a rude awakening the first time we come across them growing on the local walking paths. "Sure you may eat those." "Mom, ew, these are terrible!" Or at least those are my memories when I ate them too soon in the season as a kid.

Tonight dessert was strawberries and before I describe the hilarious and beautiful kidlogical moment, I want to take a moment to pat myself on the back for introducing the concept of dessert without it having to mean piles of chocolate chip cookies or mounds of vanilla ice cream smothered in buttery caramel sauce... mmm, is anyone else hungry?

I am quite sure I do plenty of things the 'wrong' way (even though I swear there is no right or wrong in parenting), but this one feels right. Fruit is so naturally sweet and delicious and also full of fiber and other goodies. And I'm sure we'll have our chocolate nights too, but only after fruit is well-established as the norm.

All hail the strawberry!

Kidlogical moment #1
Turbo: "Mom, why are they called strawberries when they aren't made out of straws?"

Kidlogical moment #2

Turbo: "Mom, why are they called walkie-talkies when we don't walk on them?"

Keep the questions coming, kid.

Date Night

The best thing about a date night is that someone else puts your kids to bed.

The worst thing about a date night is that someone else puts your kids to bed.

Having a little freedom from daily tasks is an important part of feeding one's own needs, as well as showing your kids that mom and dad are people who love each other and need time alone, away from all the fabulous Lego-building and paint-cleanup.

It's also sometimes impossible for me to accept that I missed a single moment in my kids' lives. I know it's good for both mom and babies, but it's also hard to step away.

I am in love with my kids. I will enjoy time outside the house with my darling spouse, and I will continue to look for fun outings without the kids. And yet, my heart still tugs to bring me back to the moments I leave behind, the PJ's that Smiley willingly, or regrettably, got dressed into, and the books that someone else read to Turbo.

Necessary conflicts, these.

Smiley's Songs

Kids grow up so fast, said every mom in the universe ever.

It's because this is true that I sometimes want to capture every living breathing thing that my kids do and say, and bottle it or record it or write about it or something... anything to preserve a perfect moment.

I have, however, convinced myself that writing about the little things will bore the socks off of you and I tend to blog about the bigger moments instead, or at least for the extremely hilarious and sometimes shocking things that Turbo churns out.

And then there is Smiley. Sweet, cute, cuddly, adorable Smiley. She gets plenty of my attention, which might not be obvious for how often I write about her older brother. While Turbo turns my head in wonder at a high frequency, Smiley melts my heart a thousand times a day. This girl is special.

Maybe this blog entry is really just for me, to capture something dear to me so I always have these thoughts to look back on as she turns yet another corner in her way-too-fast growing up-ness. She could grow out of this little moment any day now and I don't want it to be forgotten.

Putting Smiley to bed has always been easy. When we moved from a crib to a twin bed recently, we did suffer a short-term setback of her not settling in quite as quickly as she used to. It's not too surprising that, given access to the bedroom door like that, she would naturally be inclined to visit it several times before falling asleep. Instead of putting our sleepy girl into her crib, rubbing her back briefly, and then leaving the room, the twin bed now requires some extra cuddle time. No complaining here! Snuggling with this cuddle bug is the high point of any day.

The new routine includes singing her some of my favorite songs from when I was a kid. I grew up with a lot of music in my life, thank you mom and dad, and these little tunes are her current favorites, and they belong in the following order, no exceptions:

1) Frosty the Snowman
2) Tender Shepherd
3) The Pie Song, or as she calls it, "Baby Don't Cry" - from the movie Waitress.

Baby don't you cry

Gonna make a pie

Gonna make a pie

With a heart in the middle

Baby don't be blue

Gonna make for you

Gonna make a pie

With a heart in the middle

Gonna be a pie from heaven above

Gonna be filled with strawberry love

Baby don't you cry

Gonna make a pie

And hold you forever in the middle of my heart

Looking the song up on YouTube just enlightened me. I need to learn the rest of these gorgeous lyrics to sing to my gorgeous Smiley. She is my baby pie, my heart, from heaven above.

Following Directions

Me: "Turbo, you may place one toy on that shelf. One."

Turbo: "OK, mom."

That's a stretchy frog with a stretchy tongue (on the right)

Happening Right Now

My husband volunteered to change a diaper. In the dark. With a flashlight.

Why this has me giggling, I'm not sure. Maybe it's because when I change Smiley's occasional night-poo diapers I have a completely different method and every now and then it strikes me as funny that two parents of the same kid can have a completely different approach to solving a problem.

Way to go, hubby, way to go.

Food of Heroes

I'm not the kind of mama who cuts the crusts off her kids' sandwiches. When Turbo first starting eating full sandwiches he would eat the whole thing, crust and all. Now he'll eat the middle bits, but not the crusts. I continue to try to convince him that the crust is the best part and I most certainly continue to give him sandwiches with crusts on. I do, at least, spread the PB&J all the way to the edges so that when mommy or daddy inevitably finishes the meal at least we have something more tasty than plain bread crusts.

It occurred to me recently that the only sandwiches we offer the kids is PB&J. Hmm, something wrong with this picture if you ask me. Personally, I love a good non-grilled cheese sandwich, but the couple of times I've offered it up, both kids seem not to know what to do with it and often pick the cheese out of the sandwich and ask for more... cheese, that is.

I'm on a slow-paced acceleration in my mission to get Turbo to eat more varieties of foods. Smiley will eat pretty much anything, as was shown to me recently when she ate most of the salad from my plate and ignored the mac & cheese in her own bowl. Turbo, that's another story.

The four food groups according to Turbo are: pizza, mac & cheese, chips, and milk, with the runner-up being candy. Not that we get a lot of candy around here, but it is an animated discussion whenever the topic comes up.

I do keep trying, keep offering Turbo more choices on his plate and not taking 'no' for an answer. This usually ends up in him skipping dinner, but at least I'm not giving in - I don't really count this as a win, as a true win would end in him eating the new food.

So last weekend I thought maybe if I made these cheese sandwiches into fun shapes that would appeal more to the kids. It works in the movies, right?

I put these on the table for the kids' lunch and both kids were a little confused. Smiley warmed up more quickly and exclaimed, "Stars, mommy!" I smiled, proud of my little creative invention.

Star sandwiches = yum, right?

Turbo, however, was less impressed.

Me: "Turbo, I don't know if you know this, but star sandwiches are Sheriff Woody's favorite lunch."

Turbo, eyebrows raised: "Really?"

Me: "Yes. Woody called me on the phone the other day and told me that he really likes sandwiches that are in the shape of a star."

Turbo eyed both me and the sandwiches a little skeptically. I turned my back on the kids and started cleaning up the lunch prep area and then heard the kind of comment that makes me laugh out loud every time I remember it.

Turbo: "What does Buzz like to eat?"

Turbo 1, Mama 0.

A Lesson in Anatomy

It's important that I mention here that I've had countless conversations with Turbo about who does and doesn't have a penis. I feel the need to make that known before sharing the following story.

Turbo is a funny, playful kid. I love his mischievousness and I continue to learn and practice being patient when his level of mischievousness rises a little too high on the trouble scale at less than perfect times. Like when I'm trying to get him into bed.

Turbo sleeps like a rock all night long, which wasn't always the case (thank you, God, for the passing of that phase), but sometimes it's an uphill battle to get the kid into bed. There are plenty of nights when he's more than willing to climb into bed, cuddle, read four books, cuddle some more, and then drop promptly off into slumber-slumber land.

But tonight I made the brilliant choice to feed our family pancakes for dinner. I put ground flax seed in the batter (good goin', mama!), but pancakes also means maple syrup and that means hyper before-bedtime-kids. But whatever, today had snowflakes coming out of the sky and it was cold all day and I didn't want to cook real food. I was willing to pay the price.

I have to admit the kids weren't all that hopped up, so my gamble mostly paid off. Until it was time for bed and then Turbo could not settle quickly. He jumped into my bed (which is where we read his books each night), but he was fully clothed and quickly realized he was overdressed for the book party and instead of going right to the bathroom door in our bedroom, which is conveniently located right-next-to-the-laundry-basket, Turbo walked all the way around to the other door just to waste a little more time. I should put a pedometer on this kid.

It ended up in a game of, go in one bathroom door, take off one piece of clothing... go all the way back around to the other entrance, take off another piece of clothing, etc. etc. etc. It was funny, I laughed, and didn't mind him working off a little more sugar before reading time. At one point I realized I needed to pee, and I entered the bathroom, apparently through the wrong door.

Turbo, scowling: "No, mom! Go through the other door."

Me: "I need to go to the bathroom. I guess I'll wait."

Turbo: "Hold your penis."

Me: "Why should I hold my penis?"

Turbo: "Cuz. When you don't want to go, you hold your penis and it keeps it inside."

Mmkay. Good to know. Thanks for the lesson, Turbo.