Dear Ellen: When I was a kid….

Sometimes I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No particular reason. Just because I can.

Dear Ellen,

Sometimes my three-year-old acts like I’m trying to kill him, when all I’m really trying to do is get him to sit on the potty. I don’t know what he has to complain about.  The kid sits on a cushioned potty-seat insert. When I was a kid, they didn’t have cushioned potty-seat inserts.  Heck, when I was kid, indoor plumbing was something only the one-percenters had.

When I was a kid, my parents had to walk me up hill – in the snow, both ways – to an outhouse. AND!!!!!  I didn’t have a cushioned potty seat to sit on either.  In fact, to this day there are still splinters in my butt I can’t reach.

Not only that, BUT!!!!! They also didn’t have smart phones, tablets or …..most importantly, Candy Crush, to keep me entertained while I was sitting on the potty. The only thing I had to keep me entertained were the creepy crawly things that lurked in the shadows inside of the outhouse.Pennywise2

As a result, I now have serious issues – like using creepy clown memes in blog posts about my kids.  Who does that?

Ellen, would you please come to my house and explain to my three-year-old that he has it too good? I’m sure he’ll listen to you – assuming you can get the tablet away from him.  The kid’s a freakin’ YouTube Kids addict.

Sincerely,

A. Marie

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15 thoughts on “Dear Ellen: When I was a kid….

  1. I love your blog, A. Marie. I hope Ellen sees the gem in your letters. One of these days I can say “I know that lady! Yeah, the one sitting there next to Ellen making her laugh so hard she’s snorting!” 😉

  2. Outdoor toilets are hazardous. I was visiting my sister (as a grown up). They lived in the country. Their toilet was an outhouse in the backyard. During daylight hours we had been shown which areas to avoid. There were little sticks in the ground. They marked the spot where the contents of full buckets had been buried – in shallow graves 🙁 One did not want to step on those spots if one wanted one’s foot to not be immersed in the unmentionable smelly stuff !
    In desperation one night I had to either go to the outhouse or wet the bed. It really was a no-brainer. I took the torch and carefully weaved my way along the safe route. What I saw under the lid froze me. A little mouse was desperately trying to hop up and escape. I stared in horror. There was no way in this world I could rescue it. Also, there was no way in this world that I was prepared to sit and do my business. It might bite me on the proverbial, latching on as an avenue for escape. Or be immersed in a golden shower, if not drown! The only option left was to squat outside under the mango tree.
    I do not use outhouses anymore. I will cross my legs. Jiggle. Keep myself dehydrated if no other option is available until I reach civilisation…..or find a large bush to squat behind!

      1. It was not pleasant. Thankfully my sister had an indoor flushable toilet installed by our next visit. But I have never forgotten it, and that poor mouse. Does that make me a murderess?!

  3. You need to remember he’s a boy, and he has things that dangle down into the toilet, which can be more frightening than that clown. Enough said. – Okay, not enough, I loved reading this, and each of your letters.

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