ABC, Easy As 123
I should mention, my son, the object of yesterdays funny, doesn't read this blog. He's heard his grandmother talk about it and yell at me for telling certain stories about her, which I guess is why he assumed I might share his embarrassment.
I can still imagine him 2-years-old poopin' on the potty. Pants around his ankles as he peers into the pot to admire his poop in all of its glory. He was always fascinated by his poop. I suppose I expected it was something he'd outgrow. I fear for the woman who marries my poop lovin' son.
I remember one time, we were packing up for a move out of state. I had boxes everywhere along with a marker, and packing tape in practically every room. When the little guy went into the bathroom to do his business, he spotted that black permanent marker and just couldn't resist the temptation.
By the time I noticed he had been in the bathroom far too long, he had opened the marker and drew a line from the center of his forehead, down the bridge of his little nose, over each lip, into the divot of his cleft chin, sliding down his neck and chest. At his belly button, he decided it best to color the whole thing in and make a hypnotizing swirl around the outside. When I arrived in the bathroom, he was singing the ABC song and the marker was headed south as he reached the letter P.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to get black permanent marker off of a child's skin? I should have known I was in for trouble with that son of mine.