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Samantha Turnbull Writer, mother, anti-princess

Pink butt

Hello Mrs Wobbly Bottom

Pink butt

Libby is a comedian. There’s no doubt about it.

Her most often used excuse is:  “I was just trying to be funny.”

When she gets dressed for pre-school, she’ll often come out in a mask or silly hat.

“It will make the kids laugh, don’t you think?” she asks.

Her teachers have also confirmed she’s quite the ‘class clown.’

And, at three, she’s just getting the hang of punchlines and proper jokes.

Today, I was the butt of her latest wise crack (puns intended).

“Hello, Mrs Wobbly Bottom,” she said.

I froze.

I knew I’d been packing on a few extra kilos of late. Evening tubs of ice cream backed up by a dwindling exercise regime were to blame.

“I said, ‘hello Mrs Wobbly Bottom,'” she repeated.

I smiled awkwardly.

I didn’t know how to respond. My own insecurities meant I was a little hurt, but I didn’t want to show it.

“Wobbly bottom,” she said again. “Why aren’t you laughing?”

There was no malice in the line. Libby didn’t understand that telling someone they had a ‘wobbly bottom’ could be nasty. To her, it was just true… and funny. Anything to do with bottoms is particularly hilarious to her right now.

“I do have a bit of a wobbly bottom, don’t I?” I asked. “And there’s nothing wrong with wobbly bottoms.”

Libby giggled.

“But you know what,” I said. “That’s probably not something you should say to people.”

Libby frowned.

“Sometimes it’s not nice to make fun of a person’s body,” I said. “Sometimes people can get sad if you tell them they’re fat or thin or big or small or wobbly.”

She didn’t quite get it. She actually got a bit upset and thought she was getting into trouble.

I left it at that.

I decided it was more important for me to act unfazed.

I wanted my daughter to think I was free of body hang-ups. Even if it wasn’t quite the truth.

 

 

 

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