Life in the Fish Bowl


My Punkin' is a Man

And not in a good way.

After 2 1/2 hours of sitting in the bathroom floor, mad as hell patiently waiting for poop, we have the following conversation:

Do you like sitting on the potty all day?


Well, that's what we are gonna keep doing if you don't go stinky.

Mommy has her pillow and her computer to play with. What do you have to play with?

My wing ding.

Yup. He said it. I can have all of the computers in the world, but he figures he has the best toy ever built right in.

Two, twenty, forty, sixty - it doesn't matter their age, men are all the same.

As long as they have their wing ding to play with, to hell with everything else.

Oh, and he just informed me he is not a little punk, he is a boy! Aren't they the same thing?

Now he is asking me "What are you doing, punk?" He's smart enough to remember every word I say, to remember who I talked to on the phone last night (and he said the name right this time Kopec!), but he can't go poop in the potty. UGGGGHHHH....

I'm gonna lay back down on my pillow in the bathroom floor for a while and cry. See ya....


Catwoman said...

That boy is a riot!!!!

So I'm guessing he's never leaving the potty again? :)