These tools are NOT for sharing!

My bloggy friend, Angela, posted a really good reason to password-protect your phone. After I quit laughing at the fact that she's now looking for a good therapist for one of her kids, I knew I had to tell about one particularly... mmmm... interesting Damama's World experience.

Over the years, Hubby and I have been open to monkeying around with (within limits) some different "things" in the intimacy department. I use the word "things" because the exploration has been definitely limited to the employment of a few different... mmmm... tools of a very shaky nature, and some very ... uummmm... interesting videos. Now, why it embarrasses me to tell you guys this, especially after what happened years ago, is baffling to me. Nonetheless, I find myself blushing over here! OK, moving on...

When Bug was a teenager he was looking for something in our nightstand and -- you guessed it -- found one of our toys. We'd been.. mmm.. playing a couple of nights before and had gone to sleep without putting it up in its proper, safe place. Hubby had been awake enough, though, to think about the possibility of one of the boys coming in before we woke up, and so had stuck it in a drawer. You know that old saying - Out of sight, out of mind. And so it was forgotten. Until Bug needed something that he thought he remembered seeing. In the nightstand. (Note; If you are wondering how I know when he saw it, it had to be this time because this was the only time we EVER failed to put it back! When we remembered it was there we laughed and congratulated each other on getting away with it! HA!)

Now I must tell you that Bug is an EXTREMELY intelligent guy. He was talking in full sentences by the time he was 18 months old. He was reading by the time he was 3. He started kindergarten at a 6th grade reading level. Being so intelligent, he knew enough to know right away he'd seen something he shouldn't have. So, unbeknownst to me, he just closed the drawer and moved on, storing the information in his cunning little brain for potential later use.

Fast-forward to 1999.

While working on a huge project for a large client, I found myself in need of someone who could not only think outside the box, but also worked cheap. 20-year-old Bug had done some work for me at clients' offices before, so as an employer I knew he was good at problem solving. As his mother I knew he needed a job. And as his chief financial aid officer I figured hiring him would actually end up saving me money in the long run. I was so proud of myself for coming up with such a win-win-win scenario that I forgot to remember that wicked, off-the-wall sense of humor that makes him so loveable.

Our team consisted of me, my wonderful right arm assistant DeeAnn, my quality control guru Bug, and 10 other very dedicated employees of the facility whose departments had volunteered them to become part of the group. The work was tedious, repetitive, and challenging all at the same time. We spent hours reviewing accounts for errors trying to tie mistakes that were being encountered together so the IT department could come up with solutions. With 13 people housed in a 12 x 16 room, tempers flared fairly regularly. But by and large you could not have asked for a better group of individuals to work with.

On one particularly difficult day in which people were complaining about their lack of personal space (primarily due to the fact that somebody had eaten Mexican food for lunch and you know the end result of bean consumpation!), a discussion broke out about most embarrassing moments. We all laughed as people talked about having ripped their pants, or spilled something on someone else, or having made a fool of themselves at various times. Then somebody mentioned how horrified she was to have walked in on her parents in the act. She said she never told anybody about it until just then. And that, my friends, is when Bug decided it was time to share his own little secret.

There, in a room, in front of 11 people who were supposed to look up to me as their project leader, my son grinned and said, "That's almost as good at the time I found the dildo in Mom's nightstand when I was a teenager." The room dropped into dead silence as everyone stopped, stared, and waited for me to react, and then errupted in loud raucous laughter when I said, "Well, you shouldn't have been snooping around in my drawers." And since I was not about to let him have the last word, I couldn't resist adding, "And which one did you find, anyway?"

At least I was nice enough not to tell them about his delight at having discovered his penis when he was only 2 years old. After all, a mom has to save some ammo for emergencies, right?!?

The moral of the story is:

If you are going to monkey around,

be sure to re-hide your bananas when you are done!