Windy Twilley

Yarn keeps me from opening fire.


That's my bear

Tyler's favorite place to play is the bookstore, because it has a big train set. Oh, and books. More books than he could ever read! Heaven! In fact, we went to the bookstore on Valentine's Day night, because what's more romantic than reading? Nothing.
So there we were, settling into the big chairs with lattes and novels, watching our angelic little boy play with the trains, when a dark, dark cloud covered his face.

"Mama?" he asked, reaching down the back of his pajama pants, "I think I pooped all over myself." (Why was he wearing pajama pants? Because I'm Mom of the Year, that's why.)

Todd took him to the bathroom, cleaned him up,
then called me from the bathroom to request a plastic bag for
Tyler's wet (washed) underpants. The bag went in my purse. The Tyler went
back to the trains. As Todd and I were walking back to the kids area, I
said, "Why does he only shit himself in the bookstore?"
"I don't know. It happens to me sometimes."
"I go to a bookstore, get all excited and, you know, poo a little."
"Metaphorically. But he doesn't know metaphor, so he just poops for real."


Blogger Gerbil said...

Craptastic! ;)

And where's my monkey hat, dude?

8:20 PM  

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