Here at Team WestEnders, we are a sporty group. The kids play basketball and soccer and baseball and any other imaginable kind of "ball". Husband gets out there with them and runs, throws, catches, bats, shoots, tackles (not all at once--yet!). I tend to get my exercise-fix by running, walking, biking, dancing (somehow, my sons won't join me in that last one. Apparently they don't have an "Inner Beyonce" like I do...hmm, actually, that's probably a good thing). My point is: physical activity has always been kind of woven seamlessly into our family life. However, lately there has been a new wrinkle; Derek, age almost 10, who has for his entire life been so skinny you can count each and every one of his ribs (even though he eats as much as me...at every meal) somehow has managed to develop actual bicep muscles (please ask to see them, he will be thrilled to show you). Therefore there is a dawning interest in some of the more technical body-related topics (a welcome departure from the usual male-obsession with bodily functions that has predominated up until now in our house!)
So last night, Derek, Riley and I were in Derek's room, and I think we might have been chatting about the importance of warming up and stretching in sports, but I seized the opportunity to teach them the names of some of the major leg muscles. (Yes, this passes for casual conversation in our house. Nerds raising nerds, I tell ya.) Now, of course I was picturing this cozy scene as a valuable anatomy lesson--calves, shins, quadriceps, hamstrings. Derek understood; he intently watched me point them out, then demonstrated their location on his own body. But then, I made my Fatal Mistake. So flushed was I with my success, so parentally-proud of myself for imparting this valuable wisdom to my children, that for just a moment I forgot that I was dealing with...immature young boys.
I unwisely took the discussion a step further, mentioning the role of--and here was the real problem--pointing out the glutes (at least I used my own, right?). I suppose I should be grateful that they were already sitting on the floor, as there was approximately a one-second pause before Riley began rolling around and chanting in a singsong voice, "The butt cheeks are important, the butt cheeks are important!" Derek meanwhile was unable to contribute, as he was cackling helplessly on the ground next to his brother.
What could I do? I sighed, rolled my eyes, and left the room so I could burst into laughter elsewhere.
Oh, and Here Endeth the Lesson.