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Real conversation with James yesterday evening as we lay in bed contemplating the meaning of the term “Taintwich” – a phrase introduced to us this week by little sister, Kimmy.

It all started because I threatened to fart in James’ mouth if he didn’t play with my hair.

I am so damn lady like.

Me: I’ll fart in your MOUTH!

James: That’s probably the foulest thing I’ve ever heard. Seriously.

Me: You have taught me well, Master Yoda.

James: You know what you are? A TAINTWICH!

*Pause of illustrious, contemplative silence*

Me: What does that even mean?

James: What goes in this alleged sandwich?

Me: Dude, it’s TaintWITCH, like BROUHAHA!

James: What, is that like the international sign for Witch? BROUHAHA?

Me: Um, obviously.

James: I think we’re talking about a sandwich of taint.

*Call Kimmy to confirm*

Kimmy: Yes, asshat, it’s taintWICH – like an Ash and Kimmy sandwich but with taint in the middle.

James: Glad we cleared that up. I can rest easy tonight having visions of my wife and sister-in-law kissing taint…

Me: … with the echoes of brouhaha!

God, my family is awesome. And yes, yes I am a parent.