Crazy puked today all over himself. (I am no longer fazed by such occurrences.)Stripped him down to his diaper and let him run around. He made a beeline for the playroom and upon entering, where Crazier was already looking at a book, I hear the following:
Crazier: OH.EM.GEEEE. You are buck butterball. Come here and let me smell your tush.
I could sit here and try to explain in detail the obvious issues with Crazier's statement. Instead, I'll keep it short and sweet.
My fault. My husband's fault. Both of our faults.