This was a big weekend for Whit witticisms. Or just funny behavior.
After channeling the Luke Wilson’s angsty neo-preppy all day yesterday, he woke up (at 6am no less) full of vim and vigor. I busted him late this morning in the dining room, pants around his ankles, leaning forward and about to pee into a big silver urn that I use for flowers. Nice. Classy kid. Then when he finally sat on the potty, he passed a little gas and exclaimed in delight, “Mummy! My bottom is talking!”
While driving to Park for their spring fair, he commented on the CD that was playing, saying “I love this Johnny Cash song.” Indeed. I agree. After the fair Whit and Grace were playing in the back yard (“yard”) for a while, and I was happily puttering inside. When I heard him screaming for me, with slightly more genuine panic and distress than usual I went outside and found that he had climbed into the basketball net (not super high, but 3 feet off the ground) and was stuck in there. He was in a pike position, bottom down in the net, and reminded me weirdly of a burlesque dancer in a big plastic champagne glass. This kid is All Boy.
