I think that any person who has been around children, for practically any period of time, understands that the more quiet a child is, the more trouble they are looking for or even worse, getting into. Add muffled giggles and shushing sounds, and you've got a complete menu for trouble. Having been a self-proclaimed professional mother for over eight years, I know this secret all too well and have oftentimes foiled potentially dastardly deeds, thought up by my oldest two.

This brings me to my most recent escapade with Taterbug and C-dub. It was a normal Sunday afternoon and little Gun-Gun was sawing logs in his bedroom, taking a well-deserved two hour siesta. The older two, proclaiming how "boredddddd" they were, decided to play a game of hide-and-go seek, completely ignoring hubby's orders of staying out of our room. It's not that we have anything to hide, but after finding smashed crackers and sippy cups of juice inside our bedcovers, and pudding fingerprint drawings on the vanity's mirror, proclaiming "Taterbug was here," I had to draw the line somewhere.

The game was getting heated and C-dub was getting rather pissy since he couldn't find Taterbug. I saw him wandering around the hallway, mumbling about how he hated being "it" and that "Sissy" was always "cheatin." Having seen Taterbug run into my room just prior to C-dub walking through the hallway, I gave him a sideways look, cocking my head towards the general direction of my room. With a knowing glance, he yelled, "Thanks Mom!" and ran off towards the sound of a now pissy Taterbug who was obviously torked that I had helped the enemy.

The game continued on for a few more minutes and I could hear shrieks of laughter - all was well and their frustration and boredom had subsided. I continued relaxing on the couch, allowing myself to slowly shut my eyes and enjoy the peaceful solitude that my house was now becoming. This quiet realization suddenly jerked me back into reality...who was I freakin' kidding...my house is never this calm!!

I slowly crept into my bedroom where I could hear muffled giggling and plenty of "Ewww...look at that C-dub!" While listening to their obvious dismay, I began to guess as to what they were doing in my domain and what they had found. A sick feeling began in the pitt of my stomach. I knew what they had found and I knew that I had some 'splaining to do. It was time for the partial "talk." Not yet the birds and the bees, but close - too close. They had found hubby's Playboy and it wasn't pretty.

Mommazilla: What the heck are you doing in here? In my most big girl voice of course, holding back the laughter that promised to leak out of my smiling lips. Taterbug dropped the magazine like a hot potato .
C-dub: We weren't looking at the naked ladies mom. Honest!
Taterbug, who couldn't contain her obvious amusement, continues whooping and hollering.
Taterbug: Dad's a total perv!!! He likes lookin' at disgustin' nakid chicks!
C-dub: Dad's not a perv Sissy! Right mommy? Hey mom, what's a perv anyways?
Mommazilla: Dad's not a perv and that's not really a nice word for you to be using as an eight year old lady. He just likes reading the stories but he thinks those pictures are totally gross. I bet he was just about ready to throw this one in the trash.
Hubby suddenly walks in to check out all the excited voices until to be greeted by:
C-dub: Daaaadddd! Sissy says your a perv! And I says you're not! Right dad?
Hubby: Hey guys...oh, you found Uncle R's magazine. Good! We'll give that back to him.

Yeah, the blame was passed onto a family member but it helped us to save hubby's fall from grace and took the label "perv" from his name. I don't know who the hell taught Taterbug the word, "perv," but I'm guessing that this same little friend will more than likely explain the full set of facts of life to her at the next recess or bathroom break. Heck, I learned where babies came from during the spring of my 3rd grade year. My good friend Maria promptly informed me of how they got there and they were sprung from your body through a full belly zipper. Yes, it was a little misconstrued, but for years after that I knew that making out and hugging boys could easily get a girl pregnant and I certainly didn't want the doctor unzipping my belly to deliver a kid.

Well here we are, a day later and a dollar wiser. Thinking that the drama from the day before was over and forgotten, C-dub casually approached me tonight,and the following brief conversation ensued:

C-dub: Momma, I love you.
Mommazilla: I love you too, honey.
C-dub: Momma, where do you think daddy put that naked girl magazine?
Mommazilla: He probably gave it back to Uncle R. Remember? That was his book, not daddy's.
C-dub: Oh, OK momma. We don't want to look at it again, right momma?
Mommazilla: No C-dub, we don't.
C-dub: Not even a little, huh?
Mommazilla: No C-dub.
C-dub: And I can't kiss you anymore cause that would mean we're on a date and I don't ever want to date a girl.
Mommazilla: C-dub, go play. And quit talking to your sister.
C-dub: OK momma.