How old would you be?

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you were?

Like a good friend of mine who occasionally likes to eat like she is 4, I often regress back to a child in a little different capacity.  While she has corn dogs and those yummy little cups of ice cream w/the wooden sticks in her freezer, I have tried all my 35 years to get over my tendency to giggle when I hear the word “poop”.  (I just giggled typing it.)  And when I learned I was pregnant at age 30…I knew I was going to be doing a whole lotta laughing when that baby was born.  I may have even giggled in the pediatrician’s office right after my son was born when she asked me what color his poops were. 

So you can imagine my surprise when I received this photo from my mother.  (Yes my mother…who up until about 5 years ago would spin her lid if the words, “pissed off” even came out of my mouth by accident.)  Corrupted by her co-workers or shall I say a former co-worker, Maria, my formerly prude mother now moderately cusses (never the F word!), will tell a dirty joke here and there, and yes, she sends out disgusting pictures such as this one.  I immediately sent this photo to my friend Shakirra, because she makes great special occasion cakes.  I jokingly asked Shakirra in the email what she would use to make the (echmmm) poop (giggle).  Chocolate?  OOH…thinking about taking a nibble of THAT  just made me dry heave.  Then I finished the email by again regressing back to my childhood.  As I was concluding my email, I momentarily drifted back to all the birthday parties I ever attended and then quickly got the quincies simultaneously with my emphatic proclamation that, “(ewww) I want a frosting flower!!!!!”