Words of Wisdom from my boys
Life around the Southern Fried House of Fun has been a never-ending roller coaster ride of chaos. School started on August 9th. That Saturday, we celebrated Fat Baby's third birthday (which was actually the 12th) with a pool party. On the 13th, I turned 36. Yeah, I'm on the dark side of my thirties. Yippee. And, oh yeah, we're potty training. It sucks. I'll tell you straight up, the 5-day-a-week-daycare trained the President, and I just reinforced it at home. And so I am spending a L O T of time in the toilet begging, pleading, cajoling, bribing, threatening, and getting nowhere fast. I'm not too worried about it, honestly. It will happen before he goes to college, but for the sake of the preschool staff, I'm making an effort.
In traditional, grown-man-in-a-7-year-old-body-fashion, the President has been throwing me some zingers this morning. For example:
He was talking about some of the 'tween shows on Disney Channel with his dad & he said that if Hannah Montana's bodyguard (female) became the manager of the Naked Brothers Band, then she would be the "womanager."
He was getting dressed this morning to go to the store with my husband & came out with socks & tennis shoes. To save time I suggested that he just put on Crocs or flip-flops. I was told, "Mom. Crocks and flip-flops are 'so last year!' "
Finally, as we were all gathered in the bathroom, waiting for Fat Baby to produce a little squirt, The Pres tells his little brother, "It's all about transportation. When you've gotta go, just take yourself to the bathroom & put your stuff in the toilet."
And not to leave out the budding philosopher known as Fat Baby. The other day, I was pulling out all the potty training tricks I could think of. So I put a few Froot Loops in the bowl for him to shoot. I forgot that he had eaten that kind of cereal for breakfast until he said in his booming baby voice, "I EAT THAT!" Bad idea, Mom.