This Tea Party is NOT for the Faint of Heart

The other day on my personal blog I asked the question "What was the worst thing that you've ever done as a child?" I then proceeded to share a pretty gross story (feel free to read it if you like) that led me to believe that I was in fact a demented child.

This topic has got me thinking hard. Why? Because my boys really haven't done anything super duper noteworthy yet in terms of bad things. I'm left to wonder, is it luck, or are they just biding their time. Chances are, knowing what sort of mother they have, it's the latter of the two.

I thought of another story the other day, one that is almost equal in the gross-ness factor as the first, if not more so.

When I was little, probably around 4 or 5 years old, I wanted to play tea party and use real water instead of pretending. And so I snuck into the bathroom and filled my tea pot up. A little while later when my mom came into to check on me and asked where I go the water from I told her that my Dad had given it to me. She left with an, "Oh, ok." and that was the end of that. A few more minutes went by and this time my dad came in to check on me. Of course I gave him the same story, only swapping out him for my mom as the one who allowed to me to have the water. He bought it (I was pretty mischievous, huh?) and left me to my own devices. After I drank all of the water all gone I returned to the bathroom to get some more.

This is where I got caught. My mom walked in on me scooping water out of the toilet with my little pink plastic tea pot. Yes that's right, I was indeed drinking toilet water. When my mom went into my bedroom to make sure there was no more "tea" in their she discovered that I had also broken my piggy bank apart and was using pennies as pretend cupcakes and topping them with a tube of glitter glue that I was pretending was frosting. Yes. I ate the cupcakes ... and I pooped glittery pennies for a week.

Hey, I told you at the beginning of this post that I was a demented child!
But all of this leaves me to wonder just how far my boys will go when their time comes. I sure do hope that my disgusting childhood adventures are not hereditary!