All the boys have snot and goo and other fluids leaking from various orifices. Kelly freaked at nap time because his girlfriend was coming over later in the afternoon. Beckett was wailing at 2:34 am and seems to be regressing, like Kelly's potty training and Rhys's mellow, easy baby persona.
Speaking of potty training, I've got my money on Rhys to be the first of our monkey troop out of diaps. Rhys seems to have fun sitting on his talking, musical potty. Upon squatting on his high-tech, dwarf-size throne, a woman's voice warmly greets Rhys, "Welcome back!" and launches into an motivational verse about pissing and pooing at ones one pace and on ones own terms. Good stuff - not at all annoying. Rhys, a music guy but still trying to feel the beat, tries to clap along for for a while then starts paging through his reading material, as streams of drool drip off his chubby chin, forming multiple, parallel saliva flows down his bulbous belly. These slick streams merge at a confluence above his penis and then drip, finally, down his miniature member into the potty's liquid sensing collector pan. After five minutes reading, drooling and dripping - no peeing - the potty woman's voice announces, "You did it! Great job! You're right on track"
No comments:
Post a Comment