Well,apparantly the bruised foot had no effect on Calvin’s spirits. Today he was bustin’ out all kinda jokes and bad behavior. I finally had to jot them down, there were too many:
- Ran around the house chasing Max, saying, “You’re Carrie Underpants! You’re Carrie Underpants!” When we told him 1) Enough is enough, 2) It’s only funny the first time, and 3) Quit talking about underpants, he improvised and renamed Max Carrie Underwear, Carrie Underbutt, and Carrie Underpeepee.
- On a walk at a wildlife refuge, I read something about a toothed elm leaf off of a sign. He interrupted, “Like a butt toot?” When I didn’t answer, “You mean a toot like this?” then bent over, grabbed his britches, and ripped one. (Ryan walked on, but I couldn’t even try to disguise my laugh.)
- When we drove up to a lily pad, cypress tree, and great blue heron-filled pond, “Heaven will be even more supriser than this… This is my favorite place in the whole world! Actually, Six Flags, then this…”
- When he was the only one in the whole truck who didn’t see the two fawns peeking from the woods, “This was one of your bad ideas. We had to be in the truck!”
- When I was singing everything opera-style and claiming to be an angel (don’t all moms antagonize their kids this way?) he ran up, bent over, ripped one, then scooted right up to me and wiggled his butt around. I asked him (in mezzo soprano) why he was doing that and he answered, “To get the toot permanent on you.”
No lie, these are all from one 12 hour period. I pretty much gave up on potty patrol after the walk. Guffawing kinda makes you lose your credibility as a potty police. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. It’ll bring a trip to day care if it gets much worse…