It includes such gems as
- Stop talking about your brother's penis.
- Do not lick the door.
- That's my bottom and you're not allowed to touch it
So Charlie and I are out grocery shopping and the urgent need for a restroom comes over me. I stash the cart, grab the purse and kid, and head to the one-seater.
Charlie is sooooo much fun in a bathroom. He spends the entire time getting a piece of toilet paper, pushing my knees apart, and trying to help me with my, er, personal hygiene.
Good times, good times.
So this morning, I had to answer the cry for help, "Mommy! Charlie is taking my poop!"
I go in and Melody is practically shut in the toilet. She'd leaned forward and pulled the lid down behind her to act as a clam shell of protection. She was crammed so far in there, that I'm predicting mere centimeters between her heinie and the water below.
Charlie is standing next to her, emitting demanding shouts of "BALL! BALL!"
Those aren't balls, Charlie.