I have exactly eleven minutes to blog and post today. Let's see if I can do it.
Hmmm. I have so many topics that I could talk about. But most of them require more than a few minutes of thought.
Fuck. My mother's on the phone. That's two minutes down. Apparently the space shuttle is flying by today.
Anyway, today completes my kids' first full week of school.
I'm pretty damn proud of both of them, but I'm so proud of my son that I could burst. He's loving school. And the teachers have pulled me aside a couple of times each to let me know how excited he is to be in school and how happy and well-adjusted he is already.
He cracks me up though. Do you remember when I couldn't convince him that boys poop on the potty? And I didn't have a male role model to prove it to him. And Uncle Patrick and Mr. Mark weren't willing to step up to the plate.
Yeah, well, at the time, I told him that he had to poop on the potty before he could start school.
So what did he do? He waited until the day before school started. Now, all of sudden as if by magic, he is completely potty trained. Typical.
And he expects a toy every time he goes. Because I had resorted to bribery and promises of new trains if he would just please, for the love of god, go in the potty.
Now he counts each poop floating around in the bowl and thinks he should have a new train for each piece.
He also makes up stories about them. The big one is the mommy. The little ones are the kids. I guess it's cute, for now.
So this is what you get when I have eleven minutes to come up with a post. You get stories about floating poop.
And I'm off to pick up the potty king. With a whole minute to spare.