So..

My 13 year old son thinks I am stressed out, and apparently he has been researching ways to help reduce that stress..

It really started innocently enough….

Over the weekend, while away at his fathers house, came up with a plan

— a ‘solution’ —

to combat my stress. An herbal tincture, if you will.

He came home from his dads, a smile on his face, a little bottle in his hand. I gave him a hug and welcomed him home. All normal so far. As normal as it gets, anyway.

Then.. It began. And the next 2 hours of my life was forever changed….

My Son: “I know how stressed you’ve been, Mom, so I made you a laxative.” Me: “A what?!” My Son: “A laxative..you know, so you can relax?”

I have the instant tightening of my tummy.. the pre-hysteria seeping in. I try, oh, how I try to hold in the laughter. I bite my lip, as I ask..

Me: “Where did you learn about..umm.. laxatives?” My Son: “Well, the other night after you went to sleep, I was reading about laxatives in that book.. that homeopathetic book. I think you need to relax more, Mom.”

Yup.

You guessed it.

He found a recipe in a homeopathic book for a laxative.

L-A-X-A-T-I-V-E

That is when I totally lost it. I couldn’t hold back. It just wasn’t going to happen. Laughter had gotten me.. I was done for. I fell off the sofa, in a fit of overwhelming giggles, tears starting to form, on my hands and knees laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe at all….

“A laxative” I say..well, attempted to say. It came out more like “Alaxativeeeeeeeebawhahahahahahahahahahahahaha” Me: “Do you know what a laxative is?” My Son: “Something to make you relax?” Me: “Well, it makes part of you relax.”

Of course, that last line made me die laughing again. I tried to stand up, and ended up falling back on the sofa, my body doubled over.

Meanwhile, all I kept thinking was..

Laxative Boy .. hurry!! there are lives at stake.. from all the steak we ate.. Help!! Help!!! The LaxMobile — a portable toilet with wheels.. does 80MPshiiiiiit. The LaxCave….?? Lax-O-Grams Stress-Less Laxatives.. and on and on and on.

I finally got enough air in my lungs to take a breath, and told him..

Me: “A laxative is something a person takes to help them.. you know.. go to the bathroom. “

My Son: blank stare Me: “You know.. when you can’t ..um.. go. Remember last summer, when I gave you the prune juice, because you couldn’t go? That is a kind of laxative.” My Son who has now turned a white shade of pale: “Are you kidding me?!?! Oh my god!! I gave a whole bottle to Grandma, and she drank all of it!.”

He said this with a huge amount of panic in his voice, while grabbing his phone to call his Grandmother and tell her not to drink anymore of his “relaxative”. (Too late — she spent the next 3 days viewing the floor tiles of her bathroom, while on her porcelain throne. )

This is when I completely lost it. 30 minutes of laughing hard. My tummy muscles were in agony, my shoulders ached, my voice was raspy, and I was shaking all over. I couldn’t even /look/ at my son without busting in to severe laughing fits.

He endured this for 2 + hours. All the while I called him “Laxative Boy”. It was days of laughter for me. I would walk through a room, catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, and start laughing again. It really was the best laugh I had had in /years/.