I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She was more than a little worn out after chasing after her capricious and energetic 19-month old all day. As we spoke, I could hear his little feet pounding down the hallway to where she stood. Then,
"Hi!" Voice full of glee.
"Hi, Connor, how are you?" Voice full of tired but amused mommy-ness.
"Poo!" Voice full of triumph.
"Poo? What do you..." Slight pause in which I imagine my friend rolling her eyes as she sighs.
"I gotta go. He's got a hand full of poo."
I stifled my laughter long enough to hang up the phone.
3 comments:
Argh! Now I am forced by a neurotic need for perfectionism that my Buddhist studies eye roll at t fix the template... happy?
Oh yeah, it's cute when a kid does it. But when Ray runs around the house with shit in his hand, it's disgusting and creepy... What a double standard...
When Ray runs around the house with shit in his hand, Ray's people know it can only end badly for them.
I was amazed how many puzzled people asked, "Did he grab something from the litter box?"
"No. He's two and he's just discovered that interesting things go on in the nappies."
Really, just saying he's two covers it.
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