I accidentally played Buns of Steel with my 8 year old twins.
FYI, for the uninitiated, Buns of Steel is played in one’s laundry room whilst clad in undies (or skivvies if you’re part of the Under 10 crowd), and the rules are as follows:
1. Clench your butt cheeks as tightly as you can.
2. Get someone to punch your butt – HARD.
3. Have the puncher declare whether you do, in fact, have Buns of Steel.
There I was, in the laundry room, minding my own business, trying to find something, ANYTHING, clean to wear when I was ASSAULTED by 2nd graders.
Now I have worked for years… yeeeeeears… to try to convince my children my butt is not a bongo nor is my tummy a timpani, although they’ve been reluctant adopters of the No Beating Your Mother philosophy. Similarly, I’ve tried to assist my adorable cherubs in understanding it’s impolite to giggle, and — OK — guffaw as the case may be, at the way my fine flesh reverberates and wobbles at the smallest provocation.
I thought we were making progress, too, walking that fine line between teaching my children that, while I refuse to be ashamed of being what my maternity nurse generously called “fluffy,” I also don’t need to be poked and prodded to gleeful cries of, “We just watchin’ you jiggle, Mama!”
Yes, I thought we were making progress ’til I was punched in the rear in the laundry room.
I thought we were making progress, so I wheeled around — unhelpfully sending the whole ship a’shakin’ — to spear my precious angels with the hairy eyeball. The LOOK. The Oh No You Dih-Unt.
They backed away with their hands raised, protesting their innocence. “We weren’t punching your butt, Mom!” they said. And, to my raised eyebrow, they followed up, “Well, OK, we WERE punching you, but just to see if you got Buns of Steel.” Because that’s way better than beating my butt like drums, I guess.
So I asked, because I could not help myself, “And do I have Buns of Steel?” And they were caught.
Because not only had they punched me in the butt! Now they were forced to make a commentary they did not want to have to make. BWAHAHAHAHA.
No way out, baby dolls!
Full speed ahead!
Let’s see what you’ve got!
Which is when one twin looked at the other, beckoned him forward, whispered in his ear, garnered his agreement with a quick nod of the head, and said, “No, Mom. You don’t have Buns of Steel. You have Buns of Flexible, and that kind is good, too.”
So here I sit — on my battered Buns of Flexible — realizing we have, in fact, made progress. And for today, it’s enough.
P.S. You can see my Belly of Flexible – and read why I love it anyway – here.
10 responses to “How to Know If You Have Buns of Steel”
My little guys loooove to come up to me and zerbert me, pretty much anywhere. It’s cute, and I know the interest will fade over time, but I do get embarrassed when they try that in public…
“We just watchin’ you jiggle, Mama!”
Best. Line. Ever.
And if you’re fluffy… I’m a fridge chow in need of grooming! hahaha
Ever wonder what Autocorrect is thinking? Somehow “Friggin” turned into “Fridge”… go figure..
In my house growing up, buns of steel was played by putting your butt through one of the front windows. My brother (jr high at the time) was trying to get into his cowboy tight jeans by hopping on his bed as he tried to pull them up. He hopped wrong and ended up laughing/crying as he stumbled with his pants still at his knees to ask for assistance removing window shards from his butt. He is in his 30s now and we still tease him about his butt. Some family stories just never grow old. 🙂
This made me laugh and growl for you all at the same time! I too get butt punches repeatedly and randomly! just because both of my GIRLS want to!
Way to come out with flying colors, Beth! Your family is awesome!
At first glance I read “battered buns of flexible” as “buttered”. 🙂
My middle daughter (now 7) use to take showers with me for the convenience of us both, that is until she found out she could tap on my belly and make it jiggle. Now I make her take a shower with her older 10-year-old sister! lol Gotta love how kids keep it real!
Your brilliant brilliant beautiful boys!!!
Your humor kills me every time I read your posts! I wish we were neighbors- I’d have you over for coffee every morning! Lifting up my cup to you and your family- cheers and best wishes for this new year.
LMAO at this one!
My daughter (15 now) was almost 13 when she tripped and went all the way down the first stairway in our home to land butt first on the tiled entry.
She cracked the tile.
We all mercilessly tease her with “buns of steel” remarks.
(I was just glad she didn’t hit her head on the steel entry door! That would have been baaaaad. But it wasn’t so we laughed and moved on 😉 )