Gag a Maggot

The Swagger Wagon smells like garbage. For real. Like the dumpster sitting on the curb on a hot summer day. I thought I’d identified the source when I discovered an empty yogurt tube in one of the passenger doors. The smell actually dissipated for a day or two, but now that the daily highs have risen above freezing again the putrid odor is back with a vengeance! The phrase, “gag a maggot” comes to mind. When Isaiah and I got in the van to leave for school today, we instantly started yelling and cursing and scrambled to roll down all the windows before we’d even backed out of the garage. I searched the entire van again when I got to work this morning and came up empty-handed. Looks like we’re going to have to wait it out. Oh, joy.

I hate to make assumptions, but I can pretty safely blame this on my kids because they are absolutely disgusting. Is it unfair to assume it’s worse because they are boys? I have to admit that does seem offensive, but I don’t hear my friends with daughters complain about wiping pee off of everything within a 3-foot radius of the toilet on a daily basis. The list of disgusting offenses is lengthy.

Children are amazing, beautiful, challenging little creatures. I absolutely know I will someday miss the noisy house, the constant stream of questions, the bad jokes, and the invasion of personal space. That’s not sarcasm; I honestly dread the day my boys no longer think of me as a continuation of their bodies and their thought processes. But I will never, ever, ever, miss the germs and the mystery odors that accompany my children.

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