Feeling More Optimistic

I am going to make it through these last three weeks with my children. I just know it, and I'm not even going to collapse from exhaustion prior to them going to their father's house for the summer. The light at the end of the school year tunnel (for me) is shining a little more brightly with each passing day. I got up this morning and realized that I have exactly two more Wednesdays until the only person I have to be in charge of on a full time basis for almost three months will be me.

My older daughter has her last appointment this upcoming week with her child psychologist, and what I've gotten out of that whole thing has been my sweet little girl back. My baby (okay, not really a baby) has returned to me. She's the sweet little girl that she was years ago, before things between The Ex and I got really dysfunctional, and with lots of love, affection, attention, consistency and me doing my level best to not badmouth douchebag her father in front of her, along with removing TV and it's Disney teen attitudes, she's come back to me. She's more affectionate, she laughs so much more, she's open to conversation, hell, she has conversations with me, and she's just come such a long way for such a little girl. I am really proud of her. My greatest fear is that spending the summer with her father will set us back to where we started in September of last year, which was hostility, a nasty attitude, anger, blame, confusion, and generalized upset. But I can't worry about what might or might not happen in August tonight. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow night, but not tonight.

The younger daughter has recovered from her latest bout of strep throat. I've gotten strep throat exactly once in my life, when I was 23, and I thought I was going to die. So far this year, my children have had it five times, between the two of them. I need the older daughter to go ahead and get it one more time before November because then they will finally take out her tonsils. And strangely, even though they live together, are are therefore in each other's faces ALL OF THE TIME, they never catch it from each other. So when the younger daughter got sick last week, all I could think was, "Wrong kid, dammit, wrong kid. I need the other one to get this shit." How the hell do they keep catching strep throat and I never had it as a child? I don't get that at all, other than these are some super-germs floating around the schools now. The older daughter also got lice again, but I'll say that the second time around wasn't that traumatic for me. I was still quite grossed out, of course, but I'm determined that a tangential mission in life has been to make sure that everyone knows that clean kids get lice. The younger daughter has never caught it from her, so I don't understand that, either. Nor did the cat or I catch them, thank god, because I don't know what I would have done if the cat got them. That would have been a real fucking mess.

Knock on wood.

I got a ticket last week, on the way to the pediatrician's office, no less, for my expired inspection sticker. Yes, I knew the damn thing was expired the day after it expired, and I've let it float. I had a couple of different lies worked up in my head for The Man should the time come, but opted not to use them. Lies, you ask? What kind of lies? Oh, and these were pretty good. Lie #1 - "But, sir, I just got divorced (truth) and my ex-husband always took car of my car (lie) and he told me the inspection was good until October of 2011 (and not November of 2010)." That one might have worked since the two boxes say 10 and 11 respectively, at least from my perspective inside the car. Lie #2 - "My inspection is expired? My ex-husband told me that inspections were good for two years! That SOB!" But I didn't do it. How can I expect my children to be honest if I can't even do it? So I just fessed up and told him that yeah, I knew it was expired and I didn't have the money to fix what was wrong with it, being that I'm spending $75.00 a week in gas just to run around Richmond and Chesterfield (okay, I didn't bitch about the gas part even though I wanted to). And so I got to press hard when I signed my name on the triplicate form. I can't fault The Man for doing his job. The docket's in August so that means I've got a little wiggle room. I've formulated my argument for the judge when I go to court to have it dismissed, even though the judge won't ask for my argument and won't care.

"Your Honor, I'd like to plead guilty to the infraction. Yes sir, I've gotten the car inspected and here's the proof. But I'd like to respectfully note for the record that the Commonwealth's state inspection statute does not serve any purpose in keeping the citizens of the Commonwealth safe on the roadways. This is because the inspection is conducted once per year, and immediately after having a vehicle inspected, any number of mechanical failures could occur which would normally result in the vehicle not being passing an inspection. However, the inspection isn't due again for another eleven months, effectively leaving a vehicle on the roadways of the Commonwealth that would be found to be unsafe for travel. For the state inspection process to work effectively in maintaining safe vehicles within the Commonwealth, the Commonwealth must begin to impound vehicles immediately upon failing an inspection or having found to have an expired inspection. At this point in time, a vehicle can be inspected and fail that inspection, and then immediately driven out of the mechanic's shop back onto the roadways that it has been deemed to be unsafe to be on. Without the immediate impoundment of such vehicles, the Commonwealth will never be able to reasonably ascertain that the roadways are safe from vehicles that are mechanically fit to be driven. Additionally, inspections should be conducted once every six months."

Ha! How you like me now? Logical but yet so very farfetched. I think the state inspection process is bullshit. BULLSHIT. It's bullshit. Did I mention it's complete bullshit? I figured this out when I bought a car brand new in 1994 and then the damn thing failed the inspection the following year. I've had a car fail almost every fucking year since I've been driving. And no, they haven't all been hoopties. I'm no slouch in the mechanics department, but I pretty much have to take them at their word unless I'm going into the garage and getting under the hood myself. The state inspection serves to keep mechanics in business. That's all it does. Shystie-ass mechanics who are legit only because they're working in a building with a state inspection plaque somewhere on the property and not under a shade tree. So this weekend, I'm going to Wal-Mart to get new tires. And some tampons and a couple of frozen pizzas.

Yes, indeedy, I am feeling more optimistic. Who doesn't love a place where I can get tires, tampons, pizzas and my favorite $4.00 wine?

Updates

I swear, I really have some updates coming soon. Summer school, The Ex, Guy #1, house stuff and spotting a snake under a landscaping timber, which then resulted in me frantically ripping them all out, stupid signs for the stupid athletic association, and maybe a meta-analysis of The Real Housewives of All The Places I Watch (except the meta part will be me, myself and I researching bullshit on the internet and then the analysis will be the three of myselves making up some bullshit formula about how intelligence is directly proportional to breast size and how both are impacted by hair color), and maybe something about how I realized tonight that there really is a do-over in life. It's called System Restore. If it weren't for my children, I'd want to do a System Restore on my life, right back to February 28, 1996, which was the exact day before I met The Ex. I also intend to write a good little piece about the nasty habit I have of either disappearing out of people's lives or making them disappear out of mine, though not a la the Jimmy Hoffa way. Yes, I am absolutely positive that was not grammatically correct, but you get the drift. I might also discuss my most recent traffic ticket for an expired inspection sticker, which is really just more bullshit and I'll give you my libertarian slant on the whole thing and how it doesn't serve any purpose other than the guv keeping a whole lot of halfway shystie (my improved word for shyster) mechanic shops in business. And yes, I know the damn inspection ran out in November of 2010. If I had money to buy new tires then I would probably also have money to pay my bills on time, and I can't seem to do that either, except for daycare, mortgage and utilties.

Be patient, young grasshoppers.

The good shit is coming.

Back On Track

Okay, so I am really trying to pull myself away from The Ex bashing track I was headed down last week. I took uber aunt's words to heart and am really trying to pull myself together.

But let me first offer an explanation. Last week was really hard for me. It was an impossible week that just wouldn't end, and... I had not seen enough of Guy #1. Vertically or horizontally, which can end up with me being a really hateful person. I got called out at work on Wednesday for something I neglected to do, and got myself all in a dither about that, but then when my boss (who did not do the calling out) left early on Wednesday afternoon for her vacation after reading the calling-out email without saying a word to me about it, I decided that that was probably indicative that she didn't really care and so I decided to be neglectful for a little bit longer. Sorry, I couldn't do that work because I was busy doing all the other work you've heaped upon me. Obviously, my mistake. I was so pissed off and burnt out by this past Friday morning, I just decided, fuck it, I need a mental health day. And by 9:18am, I was in Guy #1's bed. With him. Since he was off from work and all. By 11:49am, I was sitting in a restaurant eating the biggest omelet I think I've ever seen and my attitude had improved greatly. And then, back to bed for the afternoon. My attitude continued to improve. Friday evening and it was not my weekend with the children, thank God, so off to the softball field with Guy #1 and a good book. I was *sparkling* at this point. Friday night, back in the bed. This is the first sleepover we've had since his teenaged daughter moved in with him a month and a half ago, and I refuse to have him spend the night with me, or vice versa, unless she's spending the night with one of her friends. It seems she only wants to spend the night with her friends when I have my kids and am not available for sleepovers.

Have I ever mentioned that kids are cockblockers? And it doesn't even matter how old they are. They.are.just.cockblockers.

My other reason for being so shitty is that The Ex continues to annoy me, but I think my own lack of getting laid was the bigger culprit last week. And it really was the never-ending week. I was home alone all Saturday morning and all Saturday afternoon and I realized I haven't been alone in my house, alone-alone, for any period of time for a month or so. I've spent all of my alone time either running around doing shit for other people or... doing shit for other people. I need to learn how to say no. I need to come to a place of NO. No, I can't clean out your attic. No, I can't clean out your garage. No, I can't make yet another sign for the cheerleading and football sign ups, and no, I can't make signs for the carnival either. Nope, I can't take any children to a birthday party. No, I can't dogsit. No, I can't help you with a catering event. No, I can't switch nights because everything else is more important than your children. No, I can't do a goddamn thing because my ass will be planted in front of the TV for at least five hours. No, I can't even be bothered to clean my bathroom. And, um, no. Just because. This is the place I need to be at. I'm working on it.

But while I'm working on not being so angry, it doesn't help that the younger daughter came home from her weekend with her father and announced that she had to wear the same pair of underwear for the whole weekend because she forgot to pack them in her suitcase. Well, this was obviously my mistake for letting her pack her own suitcase, and then for not double checking the suitcase after I told her three times on Friday morning to put at least three pairs of underpants in her suitcase. I suppose that Mommy will be packing her up the next time she goes for the weekend. But come on. She tried to blame me and I just simply told her that Daddy should have gone and bought her some if he didn't have any extra. What a fucking douchebag, but I guess he figured he had bought her a new pair of Crocs so she was good to go and he had spent all the money he was going to spend. I want to blame  this whole thing on him exclusively, because really, he's a man. And men are nasty and gross when it comes to underwear. I know this. I've worked with men for years. And I was married to his sorry ass for years, so I know how he is. I also tried to explain to the younger daughter that I've sent extra underwear in the past for him to keep for the children, and he just sends them right back at the end of the weekend. Whatever. Shitbag.

Wednesday night I got a summer school referral for the older daughter in her bookbag. I was standing in the middle of the kitchen, with the house in complete shambles because Mommy was just a few inches away from a nervous breakdown, comparing the summer school referral to the report cards for the year, and then I heard it. "The Wedding March" being hummed in the hallway of the house whilst the children practice walking up and down the aisle rehearsing their flower girl parts for The Ex's upcoming Bethrothal. Can anyone say surreal? All I could think was... this is not happening to me. These children are not practice for his third wedding in my hallway. Oh my god. And then, they asked for my dried flower petals from the roses that Guy #1 got me a few months ago to practice with. Nope. Sorry, but you are not playing with those. Then the children wanted to know if I would buy them flowers for the wedding. Nope, Daddy will buy those for you. Just like he'll buy you some really fancy dresses which I will immediately turn into paint smocks the weekend following the wedding. Actually, I wouldn't do that. Not the following weekend. Nah, I wouldn't even do that. I know that whatever the children have will be purchased by The Girlfriend, and she's been really good to my kids. So I won't mess with her. My knowledge of what her sex life is really like is satisfaction enough for me.

I'll write more about summer school later, but I will say that both children will be attending. Not to move on to the next grades, but because it'll be a good booster shot for them this summer. Four weeks left until I pack my little princesses off into the great summer sunset until the end of August. The countdown is on!

Bear With Me...

Bear with me while I rant just one more time about The Ex. Okay, "just one more time" really means "today" in Stephanie-speak. I realized tonight that I need to quit checking his facebook page on a daily basis. I didn't used to do that, until the whole middle-finger-picture thing, and now I feel compelled to check it regularly to make sure he doesn't have my children hanging off of a stripper pole or anything like that. But anyway, while he hasn't posted anything inappropriate, he has posted a few lies.

Here's my interpretation of a few of his facebook postings. This could be really funny, or it could be really catty in that ex-wife catty kind of way.

Woke up and the house was 48 degrees. After only a small fortune, a wink and a promise; a brand new motor resides in my attic to run the fan next to the furnace. This means either his girlfriend paid for the motor or his mother did. I'd vote for the girlfriend. Yet another reason I let him keep the house and then made sure I purchased a house with a 6 year old heating system.

What's on your mind?.......Shameless self promotion! An appropriate post for a narcissist. I'll get into that later.

Replaced the ______. Down-sized a bit ;) This was a post about him getting rid of the SUV and buying his mid-life crisis vehicle. The new smaller sports car goes fast and probably doesn't last too long, like his dick.

VCU!!! Ahhh, the eternal college student. I am so glad I won't have to worry about paying back those student loans. His girlfriend can take care of that, too.

‎3 for 3 for 3 I don't even know what this is. He had sex three times in three days and it lasted for three minutes?

Amusing what gets noticed and ignored... gotta' love honest feedback. This would be for the people who made not so complimentary comments on the picture of the children with their middle fingers up in the air, but then didn't comment on his engagement. I can only assume.

Happy Easter! Just finished one of the best sets I've ever played Okay, it was at church. Are you kidding me? Jesus said, let not your drum stick break, for I give you my rhythm.

enjoying an evening of dinner, homework, and games with my daughters. Life is good. Except he didn't do any fucking homework with either one of them. You lie!

What really concerns me here is that if I keep checking The Ex's facebook page he's eventually going to do one of those stalker apps and my mom is going to end up being his number one stalker. And then he might unfriend her, though I would have thought he would have already done it after I confronted him about The Picture. But it also makes sense that he didn't, because that's not someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder would do.

And that's the real crux of this post. Yes, I've called the man a psychopath once or twice. To his face. Okay, okay, maybe it was a little bit more than that. And maybe I was screaming. But now that the proverbial dust has settled, I've come to the conclusion that this was a misdiagnosis on my part. Silly me, I got my Cluster B personality disorders all mixed up in the unfolding drama of a separation and divorce. Oops.

He's not a psychopath. I've come to this conclusion because I know he was never diagnosed with Conduct disorder as a youth. However, after spending some time with Holy Grail of All Shrinks, I know what I'm dealing with. 

Narcissistic Personality Disorder.  Defined by the Shrink Bible, "A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:"

Here we go. Follow along with me.

"1. Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)         YES

2. Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love    NOT SO SURE ABOUT THIS ONE

3. Believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)     NOT SO SURE ABOUT THIS ONE

4. Requires excessive admiration            YEP

5. Has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations            AND THIS ONE

6. Is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends     OH, YES

7. Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others       STILL A YES

8. Is often envious of others or believes others are envious of him or her          AGAIN, YES

9. Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes             HEY, ANOTHER YES!

10. Often mild to moderate paranoia, that others are out to do him in.      NOT SO SURE - COULD BE WELL HIDDEN

11. Predominant "name dropper" boasting or suggestion association with people or affiliations of importance."              AND UM, YES AGAIN

* See footnote below because I don't think I can properly footnote this thing.

So, our yeses are: 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 11. That's eight and the requirement is five. Buh-ingo.

I married a narcissist. And then I divorced a narcissist. It was all my fault, simply because nothing is ever his fault. It's cool. We will see how the next marriage shakes out. I give her five years, which would be exactly five years smarter than me.

And now, I've gone to Google. Can you believe that if you type in "how to mess with a narcissist" 234,000 hits come up? And this page could become my best friend: http://thebitchnextdoor.com/. Hey, they even have t-shirts and mugs! Holy shit, I need one of those!

Stay tuned. I've already got A game, but I might be getting ready to take it to the Ivy League level. 

* Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders-IV-TR

Bittersweet

Monday night and I'm hungry. I worked until seven this evening, and I had exactly two diet pills and a couple of handfuls of cheese crackers to eat today, along with about three gallons of water. Summer time diet! That super cute halter top I bought needs to fit. If I can drop seven pounds off of my lower half and three pounds off of my breasts, I will be good.to.go. And... because of this diet... I am ONE CRANKY BITCH. I am so far gone into the bitchiness and crankiness that my Diet Pepsi Max isn't even working. Kind of like my epidural with the younger daughter. They made me wait for two hours before giving me the epidural, which meant I had been in labor for about four hours, and I missed the fucking window. So I got a needle stuck in my spine for a whole lot of nothing. I've missed the caffeine window today, and this got kind of ugly for the last person that I was seeing at work. Oh well, I guess that's your punishment for waiting all day to come and see me to take care of business.

I didn't get everything accomplished that I wanted to this weekend, which entailed all of the yardwork I wanted to do, get the entire house cleaned, get all of my work caught up from work, get all of my work caught up for the non-profit, make the signs for the athletic association, get all of the bills paid, do all of the laundry and still squeeze in getting laid. Let's see, I got a little bit of yardwork done, cleaned the kitchen twice and the living room once, two hours worth of work done for work, zero hours worth of work done for the non-profit, no signs made for the athletic association, no bills paid, half of the laundry done (and one load twice because some damn child left a candy bar in their pants pocket which then looked like shit smeared all over the inside of the dryer), and maybe something on getting laid, but that was a rush job. I did all that and ran to the younger daughter's gymnastics class, off to buy a birthday present for one of her friends and then off to the birthday party, fixed dinner on Saturday night for the children and Guy #1 that was not up to my standards (but damn it I was tired) and then discovered on Sunday that the older daughter has lice. Oh my god. Are you kidding me with this? Off to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled for the lice cream and then back home to make it happen in her hair. I hate putting these chemicals in her hair but I hate the kid that she got lice from even more. And how does one kid in my house get lice and the other doesn't? How does that happen? They are both bathed at the same frequency. I decided tonight that this is it. I'm not dealing with lice any more. Both children will be getting a once a month vinegar treatment from here on out. It's got to be better than slathering DDT into their hair. It just has to be.

The whole bin Laden thing happened, which caused me to sit up until almost one o'clock this morning watching the news. As a caveat, I've never served in the military and I don't know personally know anyone who was lost in any of his terrorist attacks or while fighting the war on terror. Additionally, I don't know much about Middle East relations other than what I pick up only sporadically in the news. That being said, I was, and still continue to be, struck by the celebrations that erupted around the country last night when the news broke. Yes, the man deserved to be hunted down and removed from this planet, and in doing that, we've ascertained that he will never plan another bombing, but I think it's also pretty certain that another one will step up to fill his shoes. Maybe not with his abilities, but I don't think we can rest easy now. The Department of Homeland Security isn't just going to be absorbed into another agency. Our mass transportation systems are never going to go back to the way they were on September 10, 2001. Nothing will ever be like it was before. No matter what we do, we can never go back to who we were The Day Before It Happened.

It felt very surreal to watch the news last night. Last night, and today, I keep going back to the feeling that we've sacrificed too much to celebrate. We've said goodbye to thousands of people who never should have been lost, and we've sent many more off to look for that bastard and to either come home in a box, or come home with body parts missing, or come home never to be the person they were when they left. So where does this leave us?

Is our planet, our global community, a safer place for the permanent removal of bin Laden? Without a doubt. But no matter who we hunt down and kill, it will never be the same place.

A very bittersweet victory.

Reposting...

Head Lice and Skid Marks

Our outdoor day summer camp experience is complete. Head lice have determined that my older daughter's clean blond hair is a great place to ride the wave into elementary school. Ha! Caught your little asses before that could even happen, motherfuckers.

It started Thursday morning, though not with the hair, but with an ear. She woke up a little whiny and said her ear hurt. The child's almost eight, so I asked if she wanted to go to the doctor or not. I know that sounds a little too democratic-parenting bullshit to some, but for real, it's her ear. She'll let me know if it starts to get out of hand. She said no, let's just wait and see. I was down with that, because I had a dentist appointment scheduled for the younger daughter and I was already going to be late for work, but I didn't want to be dentist appointment AND doctor appointment late. Thursday night I asked about her ear, she says it's fine. But her head itches in this one spot. Hmmmm, I sure hope that's not lice. But it can't be. She washes her hair everyday, specifically so she won't get bugs in her hair.

Our daycare had a lice outbreak a few years ago, five years ago to be exact. I remember this because it was shortly after the younger daughter had been born and I had just returned to the SHITTIEST job in the whole entire world from my maternity leave. Seriously, it was a horrible job and I hated everyone there and I hated myself for having to go there every day. Anyway, our daycare owner, who could also be called the Daycare Nazi, like the Soup Nazi, declared that any child who got lice would not be admitted into her facility until the parent had a doctor's note that the lice had been treated and were eliminated. Obviously, you see where I got the Soup Nazi reference from. There were daycare workers stationed at the front door every day checking each child's hair before entree was granted. If your child had lice, well then, NO DAYCARE FOR YOU! I used to imagine her saying that with a Russian accent like the Soup Nazi.

I immediately spazzed out, because I had just taken three months off from work on vacation leave. I didn't want to burn up any more vacation time, because I would need that to call in sick to go on job interviews because did I mention this was the shittiest job ever? So I went old school on my older daughter. I used the old country ass/prison trick of rinsing her hair with vinegar every night in the bathtub, because this was what the prison system used when hosing down all of the convicts coming in from the local jails. Worked for them for decades before they switched to lye shampoo. Yes, the child was stinking horribly for about two weeks, but no lice. Mommy had prevailed. Take that, you dirty lice.

But back to the story at hand. She's scratching a little bit on Thursday night, but her ear feels all right. Okay, maybe this is just something that's psychosomatic about being back with me after spending a summer with her father whom I am pretty sure just let her do whatever in the hell she wanted. Friday morning, her ear hurts again and she agrees that we should probably go to the doctor. She's asymptomatic for an ear infection, but she always was. And her head still itches, same place. So MommyKemosabe has a little look-see, and honestly, I didn't know what in the hell I was looking for. I didn't see much, other than three or four white flakes that I assume is dry skin from all the scratching. We'll have the doctor look at that, too.

Off to the doctor's office. Swimmer's ear and a middle ear infection. Glad as fuck I caught that before the weekend, because The Ex would have been miserable had it gotten worse, since this is his weekend. I was actually more relieved for my daughter, because screw him. And yes, we have nits. Lovely. I guess nits are baby unhatched lice. I didn't ask because it was gross either way. According to the doctor, lice like clean, light colored hair the best. Who knew? I guess I can stop strong-arming her into washing her hair every day and just go for every two or three days like she really wants to do anyway. I will continue to insist that she at least rinse her ass off every day though, preferably with the soap that I have kindly placed in the shower for that purpose. Off to the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled, because apparently lice have become resistant to the over-the-counter treatments. Ewwwwww. Or this is just part of a larger conspiracy of the drug companies to get us to buy their shit. Whatever, I don't care at this point. The good news is that it's not a full-blown infestation, it's localized to that one spot. Thank God. And the doctor gave me refills in case the younger daughter gets it. Or in case I get it. What??? Uhhh, what the fuck are you talking about, in case I get it? Oh, hell no. Hell no. Mommy will not get lice. That would totally mess up my chi. Sorry, but quiet time with my vibrator will just not feel the same if I have head lice. It would be like that time I broke my wrist and had a hard cast. I refused to have any kind of sexual relations for the entire duration of wearing said cast because who has sex with a cast on? Seriously, who does that?

My older daughter was quite excited by all of lice-n-nits drama. As I was running her over to summer camp, I cautioned her that this is really something we should just keep to ourselves. Let's not tell any of your friends at camp, because they might make fun. When she asked how they might make fun, I felt this immediate sense of relief, as this was my biggest clue yet that my daughter is not a mean girl. I had to explain what making fun of someone was, and how badly she would feel if someone made fun of her because of this. She asked about telling her camp counselor, and I was like, noooo, this is something we just want to keep in the family. But you can call Nannie and Popeye and tell them if you'd like. I felt absolutely no concern about taking her to summer camp with an active case of head lice. That's where she got them at, so let's just take them back one last day for a little visit. We'll have this knocked out before she returns to the Daycare Nazi for before and after school care, and I will know I narrowly slipped through the net and got one over.

As for skid marks, I don't have much to say about that, other than exactly how old does a child have to be before they actually begin to apply the toilet paper directly to their ass instead of just waving it around down there? Really, it just made for a better title