Where Do Polar Bears Poop?

Saturday night was a busy one for our family. My daughter had a game to cheer at in San Diego and I had a party to host up in Laguna Beach. Since the Rah Rah Girl wanted to ride to the game with her cheer buddies, my husband drove our son to the game in his car, while I drove a car full of ladies up the coast for a fun Girls Night Out. The team won, so there was pizza to celebrate. My daughter hung out with the team, my husband drove our son down to the beach to check out the phosphorescent glow of the annual phenomenon of the San Diego coast called Red Tide, and I wrapped up a fun Girls Night Out at Surf & Sand.

Eventually, we all ended up safely back at home... together.

This morning, we slept in. It felt so good to sleep past nine, nowhere to be. One at a time, each kid and then my husband ended up piled on top of me on my side of the bed, snuggling. Apparently, it's fun to pile on mom in the morning. I didn't mind. I love being smashed by my family in the morning.

After a minute of playing Smother the Mother, my husband asked if I wanted coffee. Maybe because the oxygen to my brain had been cut off, but I forgot (again) that I shouldn't cuss in front of my kids, so I responded,

"Does a bear shit in the woods?"

The kids fell into a fit of giggles and asked me why I even asked that. I tried to explain that "old people" like us used to always say that to mean "no, duh!" Then they were like, "Who says 'No duh' any more?" And I was like, Ummm, us old people. We were still laughing when my husband asked again if I wanted coffee, to which the kids replied, "Does a bear S in the woods?" My husband, smart ass that he is, said, "Not if it's a polar bear!"

So when he went out to get the coffee (because we don't ever make coffee here... we waste our money on drive thru Starbucks coffee... even when we're broke... which may be why we're broke...), my kids decided to google:

Where do polar bears poop?

Thank GOD for Google! How else would we have any of our ridiculous questions answered in mere seconds? And how wonderful that they had the foresight to buy YouTube, now one of the highest searched sites in the world. Because without YouTube, I wouldn't have had the pleasant experience of watching a polar bear pooping...

and then a hippo pooping...

and then the sudden overwhelming gagging reflex that followed.

I began dry heaving in my bed, trying my hardest to not let last night's meal come up and out. Hand over mouth, I begged the kids to turn off the video. Their giggling faces started to sour as they watched me sit up in bed, pretty sure they were about to see their mom puke all over her side of the bed, the side where just minutes earlier, our family was snuggling together.

The lesson here? Leave a tender moment alone. Or, IF you ever want to know where a polar bear poops, make sure you have a bucket nearby. Or maybe DON'T ever try to be like us Joneses.

Just don't.

PS: I didn't puke, by the way. I did, however, lose my appetite for breakfast. And coffee.