The Butthole Game

Keep your hands to yourself. It is the number one rule. One of many that they ignore constantly. I’m not entirely sure why I try to maintain any respectable behavior at all. It isn’t like I’m good at any kind of punishment or maintaining consistency.

The first time Jane said “shit” it was perfectly in context. I would have said shit in that scenario. She was walking along with a cup of cereal or juice or something and tripped, flinging it all over the floor. She might have been channeling my inner thoughts because I was thinking, “Great. Now I have to fix another one. Shit.”

In high school I used to play hacky sack. I would say I was casual and didn’t play religiously but we played at youth group so maybe I only played religiously? Anyway. One of the games was a variation of red dot. Basically, if you let the hacky sack drop then you stand against a wall and someone throws it at you. Duck your head and cover your junk and you will be fine. Maybe you will have a bruised kidney or something but what’s a little organ damage to a seventeen year old? So remember this game; Make a mistake = Get punished. Moving on.

There was another game called Corndog. The rules of this game were more random. If someone is standing around and oblivious to their surroundings and engaged in a discussion with someone else then using a hand in the karate chop style you would cram your victims pants into their butt crack with a vertical chopping motion and yell “CORNDOG!” This game was more about violation of physical boundaries by adolescents. I would blame this on guys but I was “introduced” to this game by a female in a group of people I had just met. Awkward. It is a strange bond to have with someone who has karate chopped a wedgie into your butt crack.

My children, whom I hoped to protect from both types of silly and unnecessary games, have nullified my efforts. Tonight I heard Threeto say out loud, “Let’s play the butthole game.” I thought to myself, sweet Jesus what sort of fresh hell is this? Naturally I rushed to investigate.

UD: Hey! What kind of game is this Butthole? It doesn’t sound like anything you should be playing.
Jane: Really dad? We have been playing for years.
UD: That doesn’t sound good.
Prima: We ask each other questions and if you get the answer wrong…
Threeto: (Forms a fist with the middle knuckle raised. Proceeds to punch herself in the butt.) BAM!
Jane: You get punched in the butthole!
UD: I… (I started to laugh because of how serious Threeto had punched herself. I felt laughing didn’t send the right message so I excused myself for a minute.) I’ll be right back. (Still laughing)

I retreated to the kitchen where Supermom was working on a cake.

Supermom: What?
UD: They are playing a game called butthole and punching each other in the butthole.
Supermom: Why are you laughing? That isn’t funny.
UD: I know right? I am so uncomfortable that I am just laughing. I will talk to them. I just need a minute.
Supermom: What is wrong with them? Good God.

I bravely walked back to the bedroom full of giggling children.

UD: Okay that’s it! No one punch anyone in the butthole!
Jane: But you were just laughing.
UD: Uuummm. Threeto had a booger. Butt punching is not funny. I wasn’t laughing at that. NO PUNCHING BUTTS!
All: Okay…

I hope my bluff holds. The last thing anyone needs is explaining any of that weirdness.

UPDATE – I finished the top part of this last night and went to bed.
Then at 4:00 AM. A loud knocking on my bedroom door.
UD: UUUGH. What?!?
Jane: Prima needs you. She won’t stop crying.
I got up and walked into the room.
UD: What is it Prima? Why are you crying?
Prima: *sniffle* Coffins…
UD: What?
Prima: I’m scared of coffins.
UD: You woke me up at 4 am because you are scared of coffins?
Prima: They are scary.
UD: You are campaigning for one. Go back to sleep. (I say really crappy things when I am tired)
Prima: Okay.
UD: I love you though, but stop obsessing over things and go to sleep.

Everyone went back to sleep. The next morning I talked with Jane to make sure they knew not to play any games that were awful. We all acted like nothing happened at 4am.

UD: So you girls aren’t playing the butt punching game right?
Jane: No, we are playing a better game.
UD: What is that?
Jane: Death tickles.
UD: You girls are really letting me down here. *sigh* What is death-tickles?
Jane: Threeto acts like she is tickling you but she pinches and scratches you.
UD: Don’t play that either.
Jane: Uuuugh. Can’t we do anything?
UD: Yes. Anything. Just not anything that causes physical harm.
Jane: I knew it. We can’t do anything.

I am just blaming public schools at this point.

If you think public schools are allowing your innocent angels to learn horrible games, this post is for you. You’re welcome.I agree. Surely my little angels wouldn’t come up with all this violent madness on their own.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

16 comments

  2. Damn, my kids are so tame compared to yours. But I guess that’s normal with a six year age gap between them with the oldest being a girl. They have word battles, not physical ones. But I will tell you this….I got up this morning first. Everyone else is still asleep. I’m drinking my coffee in peace, enjoying the quiet morning, scrolling facebook, and I see your post. I’m happily reading along and then I read, ” It is a strange bond to have with someone who has karate chopped a wedgie into your butt crack.” I almost snorted coffee out of my nose. Good job, sir. Good job.

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  3. Sadly, this happens in private and religious schools too–with much worse things. I can tell you stories I heard from friends who went to boarding school *shudder*

    We had two games we played in Catholic school–that apparently people knew at 3 different schools: Butts Up and Suicide.

    Butts Up was simple. You had to throw the ball at a wall. If it fell short, you dropped it, someone intercepted it, or it touched you without you catching it, you had to run to the wall and tag it “safe” before someone threw it to the wall. If it hit the wall before you, you had to line against the wall, firing squad style, put your butt in the air (hence the name) and then someone hucked it at your ass, full force.

    And then there was Suicide.

    Suicide had the same rules as Butts Up, save that instead of racing to tag the wall before someone hit the wall before you, you had to run to touch the wall while people punched the shit out of you…and would not stop until you touched the wall. The game would usually stop when the ball would bounce waaaay back. No one would dare touch it if it went out of reasonable throwing distance.

    Oh, jeezus…I just realized that we had like more of these games…Bee Bee Britches (you had to say Bee Bee Britches after every “B” word you said, or you get punched until you did–kids can actually punch you pretty damn fast before you can speak, BTW…), Birthday Licks (getting punched on your birthday by like everyone up to your age), Knuckles (a more painful version of hot hands using fists not flat hands)…Flick That (that break pencil game, but using your fingers’ knuckles and a flicked finger).

    Man, we were some mean son of a bitches.

    Man, no wonder

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    1. I do remember thumps. And seeing who could take a rubbed eraser on their arms longer. I remember the tough kids bleeding and having infections in their arms but they had that street cred right? I guess all kids are screwed up.

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      1. To be fair, I don’t think we ever fully grow out of this behavior…it just changes…Otherwise buying your friends “shots” and “Chugging” wouldn’t be a thing. Right?

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  6. Hahaha… the games they come up with! Glad you blame the schools… Glad our kids are homeschooled… but hey, someone still teaches them all those weird games… need to find out which one of their friends it is…

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