Small Boy and I had a five minute debate tonight about why he can’t poop in the bushes like the dog does. He even said I could pick it up with a bag (he’s thoughtful like that).
I’m proud to say I stood my ground, even when he said, “LISTEN MISTER, I’ll poop outside just like Trixie (our dog, not a stripper) does!”
Mister? Really? Not sure which is weirder, the whole pooping alfresco thing or SB calling me Mister. We’ll ignore the dog’s secret pole dancer name for now.