A confession: my favorite part of spring is cheeky jokes about Mr. Solid.
C’mon, admit it: you stifle a laugh every time you see an Allan’s Mr. Solid Milk Chocolate Bunny on store shelves.
Double entrendre jokes about Mr. Solid provide the Hubster and me with weeks of entertainment to get us through the last messy dregs of winter.
“Oh, look, the Easter Bunny brought your mother a Mr. Solid too! She loves Mr. Solid,” says the Hubster every Easter morning.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” I burst out. That one never gets old.
“Mommy, what’s so funny?” my youngest asks.
“Oh, nothing. Just a bit of a sugar rush,” I mutter, casting a ‘wink-wink’ look at the Hubster.
Sadly, soon those jokes won’t go over our children’s heads anymore. It will be as tragic as the day they learned to count, and we had to stop cheating them on the number of Timbits they got from the snack pack.
Exhausted parents need a little naughty humour to survive never-ending, monotonous tasks like filling and unfilling the dishwasher, changing the kitchen garbage, picking old muffin wrappers off the floor, making lunches, picking up dog poop, shoveling the driveway, matching socks and wiping noses – all while trapped in the house by the latest snowmaggedon.
The best Mr. Solid laughs start out unintentionally as evidenced recently when I complained to my friend that those chocolate bunnies sell out quickly, and I never seem to find the time to shop for them and other Easter goodies.
“I’m always with the kids. I’m never alone when I finally find Mr. Solid,” I tell her. “It’s so frustrating!”
We both burst out laughing.
“Well, at least you can find Mr. Solid. All I can ever find is Mr. I-Am-Not-There-For-You or Mr. Emotionally-Unavailable,” she says.
We’re doubled over now.
“The kids are of course never around when I find Mr. Leaves-His-Socks-on-the-Floor or Mr. Leaves-the Toilet-Seat-Up,” I reply.
“This is the best laugh I’ve had in weeks,” she says, wiping tears from her eyes.
“I know, right? Just saying the words Mr. Solid out loud in a swarmy voice is enough to make my day. It’s way better for you than a glass of wine too.”
A couple of days later, I arrived home to discover our dog had pooped in the family room. The kitchen counter was filled with dirty dishes, and two baskets of unfolded laundry sat in the hall.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Mr. Solid,” I said in my best Joey Tribbiani “How you doin’?” voice.
I burst out laughing, startling the dog.
“I feel much better now,” I said to myself, starting on the day’s tasks – with the extra spring in my step that only the thought of Mr. Solid can bring.
L’il Girl Talk
“I thought that was a private part,” says The Youngest, age 8, upon learning the capital of Saskatchewan is Regina.