I realize that my need to stay busy borders on compulsion. I decided that this summer I was going to slow down and simply be in the moment with Robby and Scott. During the past few days I've been trying to relax my pace as well as reduce my activities. It has not been easy.
Yesterday the weather was absolutely gorgeous. Not wanting to work in the yard but wanting to enjoy the weather, we headed to the Animal Park. Robby could not have been more excited.
He chatted the entire drive to the park. Upon entering, he retrieved his cones of animal feed and we proceeded to visit his beloved goats. The most amazing thing happened while Robby's little baby goats were eating.
The event was the source of conversation for the remainder of the day and evening. Robby chatted about the incident to every park visitor we encountered.To my chagrin, he even ran over to share the news with our neighbors when we got home.
The baby goat pooped. For some reason, seeing the goat defecate is the source of both wonder and amusement for my little five year old. Witnessing this awe inspiring and comical event also seemed to remind Robby of the humor of the word "poop."
Last night, every other word out of his mouth was "poop." He didn't want a cheeseburger, but he hungrily ate his "poop burger." He refused ice cream but frantically asked for "poop cream" when I closed the freezer.He asked for a "poop bath" before getting into his "poop jammies." Before going to bed, he grabbed "poop bear" and gave me a "poop kiss." Each newly created word was followed by a loud and hearty laugh. (He was the only one finding the new game funny.)
Out of a desire to maintain my sanity and to escape the poop-inspired antics, I found myself outside picking up sticks at 7:30 PM. The mosquitoes were biting my ankle but the blood-letting didn't deter me. (I did find some satisfaction in the fact that only one leg was being bitten to pieces.) I was happy for the excuse of a chore to escape my house.
I had hoped that I had written my last "poop" blog. I was wrong, and I hate to complain. However, his poop jokes aren't funny to most people over the age of five and are beginning to drive me crazy. If he remembers the unflattering word game today, I am going to have to abandon my no housework vacation. Clearing out a forest of poison ivy will feel like a vacation compared to listening to another day of poop inspired jokes!
- I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.