Last night, the kids and I read Guess How Much I Love You? before bed. (Junior, at the sophisticated age of 7, sighed through the whole book; Everett, almost age four, ate it up.) As I kissed the boys goodnight, I got to hear their own special and moving professions of love:
"Uh...Big Nut Brown Mom? I love you more than a million farts!"
"Good one, Everett. Mom? I love you more than 10,000 poops!"
Hysterical laughter.
"I love you more than if the sun farted on the moon!"
"Well, I love you more than 50 hundred butts! And farts!"
More hysterical laughter.
"Good night, guys. That's all very touching. Now zip it."
More hysterical laughter.
"Whisper, whisper, fart, fart."
"Whisper, whisper, butt, butt."
More hysterical laughter.
"Good night! No more talking you little hares!"
Just then the babysitter arrived. I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. The boys were still whispering and laughing hysterically. Meanwhile, my girlfriend was waiting for me at the local pub, which, oddly, we now operate.
As I drove off, I sighed contentedly. I'm okay with being loved in currencies of butts, farts and poops (i.e., the language of little boys) but my God, it's a beautiful thing to be able to drive away from it.
Have a great holiday everyone!
1 comment:
Congrats on the new bundle that's ready to arrive, but OMG, you will be having these potty conversations for the rest.of.your.life with 3 boys!!!!
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