Please know that if you ever call me, you run the risk of overhearing what one of my co-workers heard this morning:
"Mom, I'm a tooty-monster. I tooted. Whoa... it stinks!"
Also know that if, while you are emerging from the ladies room in a public place, you happen to pass me escorting JJ, who has already declared that he has to poop, you may also be treated to a cheery:
"Hello, poopy-man!"
I know, because both of these things happened today. I have no idea who is raising this child.
The End
13 years ago
2 comments:
Hey, it could be worse, he could be walking upto obese women, tapping their soda can and telling them how they've eaten too much junk food.
Ask Victoria about that one.
Once when my oldest was that age, we had to use the bathroom at a Dairy Queen. You know the drill. When they're that little, you share a stall. They go...then you go. She sweetly said to me (at the one volume toddlers have when they're about to embarrass you in public places--loud), "Mommy, I see your VAGINA!!" I think we sat in the stall at Dairy Queen for a good 40 minutes before I could muster the courage to show my face to the entire restaurant.
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