My kid is strange. While I am sure this is hardly news to anyone, each day he demonstrates a new level of weirdness. Yesterday we had just gotten home from playing in the water at Desert Ridge, and he went straight out to the backyard. I was on the phone with my friend Amy and when I looked out the back screen, he was stomping in a puddle. Instantly I realized that he was as naked as the day he was born and there was not a hose in sight. In as calm a voice as I could get out, "Matthew, are you stomping in your pee?" He replied by laughing. Then something in the grass caught my eye, it looked like a lovely, organic present a great dane would have left. In not so calm of a voice, I shrieked, "Matthew, did you poop in the grass?" "Yep, sure did." And today, after finishing an ice cream cone outside, he proudly announced, "Mom, I pooped in the grass again. Come look." Fortunately, I can laugh at this, especially while cleaning human feces out of my backyard, that's when it is most important.
2 comments:
I can attest to her calm voice asking her son if he A) was stomping in his pee and B) if he had pooped in the lawn. I thought I must be misunderstanding, but no.
Monica is the most patient mother I know.
That sounds like something Tim would have done. Ask Matthew if his dad taught him that.
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