Lately N has been (shockingly) asking to be potty trained, and has successfully undergone a few trial runs and shakedown cruises in big-boy underwear. He's quite proud of himself and wants to be sure everyone in the family is intimately aware of, and immediately updated to, any changes in his various bodily functions.
Tonight, as a reward for his burgeoning alimentary maturity, I introduced N to that most American of coming-of-age traditions, the hallowed direct-sucking-of-the-aerosol-whipped-cream-straight-from-the-can ritual. All concerns of dairy-induced asphyxiation aside, my little protégé quickly became a master of the craft and made his Daddy proud. Unfortunately his enthusiasm became so intense that we ended up in the odd position of having to curb him with the withholding of the whipped cream until he ate all his dessert.
No comments:
Post a Comment