Miracle on Whitcomb street, my youngest pooped in the toilet today. He managed to get it on the back of the booster helper chair, on the carpet, on his back, and even some in the toilet. It was a grand, grand display. Three years five months. He held out as long as he could. We had a round of candy bars for all the boys, and the little guy got a Star Wars Light Saber for his effort.
Keith is quite a guy. All mine are. God sent me winners, I didn't do a damn thing. He's got dimples and is cuter than a bug's ear. All the ladies love him. I go into a grocery store with my troop and the women go; 'ahhhhhhhhh.'
A couple days ago he asked me for something unreasonable. I don't remember what. Extra candy, a Cadillac, something. I told him 'no' and he quietly left the room in protest. I was working with the computer. About 20 minutes go by. I break away from the screen realizing I haven't heard any Keither noises in the background. So, where is he? I call his name. Nothing. I call louder, nothing. I call so loud the wild Turkey's outside hear and a couple of them call back to me. They roost behind the house.
I check a few rooms, then get the older boys up from the basement to help with the search. I'm concerned. Keith is a 30 pounder or so, just little enough to get wedged somewhere. I doubt he's really in trouble but you never know. We search every room. We yell his name louder and louder.
"No fooling now Keith; you come out right now. This is serious."
Carter takes up the command. "It's not funny Keith, come out and answer Dad right now." No answer.
I don't know where he is. There's 33oo sq feet to examine. We live in a rich yuppie's home.
Finally, I find him. He's been quietly standing in a large walk-in closet all this time. He comes out reluctantly. I tell him off a little.
A few minutes go by. HE's on my lap now, happy with himself.
"You scared me, Son. You really scared me. I didn't know if something had happened to you. I was scared. You gotta come out when it gets serious."
"Yeah Daddy, but I wasn't scared one bit." He tells me.
munk
Keith is quite a guy. All mine are. God sent me winners, I didn't do a damn thing. He's got dimples and is cuter than a bug's ear. All the ladies love him. I go into a grocery store with my troop and the women go; 'ahhhhhhhhh.'
A couple days ago he asked me for something unreasonable. I don't remember what. Extra candy, a Cadillac, something. I told him 'no' and he quietly left the room in protest. I was working with the computer. About 20 minutes go by. I break away from the screen realizing I haven't heard any Keither noises in the background. So, where is he? I call his name. Nothing. I call louder, nothing. I call so loud the wild Turkey's outside hear and a couple of them call back to me. They roost behind the house.
I check a few rooms, then get the older boys up from the basement to help with the search. I'm concerned. Keith is a 30 pounder or so, just little enough to get wedged somewhere. I doubt he's really in trouble but you never know. We search every room. We yell his name louder and louder.
"No fooling now Keith; you come out right now. This is serious."
Carter takes up the command. "It's not funny Keith, come out and answer Dad right now." No answer.
I don't know where he is. There's 33oo sq feet to examine. We live in a rich yuppie's home.
Finally, I find him. He's been quietly standing in a large walk-in closet all this time. He comes out reluctantly. I tell him off a little.
A few minutes go by. HE's on my lap now, happy with himself.
"You scared me, Son. You really scared me. I didn't know if something had happened to you. I was scared. You gotta come out when it gets serious."
"Yeah Daddy, but I wasn't scared one bit." He tells me.
munk
Hearing a line like that would make my day. I thrive on nonsense and insanity.