I spent a great deal of this past weekend trying to fit in sleep where I could. Something about a week at home alone with the kids just meant I was completely exhausted. That doesn’t mean we didn’t get out to do anything. It just means that when we did get out. . . it was pretty darn lame. Although my minions did really enjoy the Mango Julius we had at the mall yesterday. So did I. . .
Minions. It’s a term I use for my children quite frequently, but always in response to their activities. For those of you without children, you probably aren’t too familiar with this activity, but children seek to find their place in the world. As such, they end up copying actions their parents perform, as closely as possible. It’s adorable, and as a parent, it’s pretty darn cool.
My son is deep into this phase right now. And since I’m the only other male in the family, he generally spends his minion time copying me. So, this weekend, whilst hanging around the house doing very little of worth, I let loose with some loud flatulence. Immediately following this, my son began making his poop face. In fact, he made it so hard, his face turned a new shade of red. I quickly checked his pants. Nothing.
He was just trying to be like me and squeeze out a fart. Unfortunately (for him, not me) he didn’t succeed.
Makes a father proud.
Have a good one!
(also: if you haven’t already and have been planning on it, just haven’t moved that way. . . you really should go to authonomy and back my book. It’s moving up the ranks quickly (#904 and still rising from it’s starting position of 7000). I’d really appreciate it and maybe make my wife make you cookies.)