A couple of times I have taught my son something that I immediately regretted. Things that I normally would never do except that I was in that silly, giggly, immature mood. A few years ago I taught my son how to make bodily noises with his hand in his armpit. Ffffftttt. You know what I'm talking about. What's so strange is that manners are a huge deal with me. And I hear enough of those noises as it is. I sure didn't need to teach him to make even more.
Apparently, I lost my mind again. A couple of nights ago I explained the fine art of gleeking. That's one of the genteel, ladylike things I learned at college. Why, why did I show him how to do that?! It will definitely come back to haunt me, most probably right in the eye.
The next morning he was practicing on the way to school. Drama Queen, who had missed the whole learning experience, had already figured out that if she clicked her tongue, the same thing would happen. We all quickly figured out that she looked like one of these sprinklers. Before we knew it, we had each added our own suggestions until she was doing her own version of the non-dance sprinkler, complete with water and sound effects.