Andrew was grabbing the back of the sofa which usually means one of two things: he either dragged the sofa on top of Emma or he's trying to poop.
"I...neeeed...pooooon!" grunted Andrew.
"Do you need to poo, Andrew?" I asked.
"Pooooooon!" Andrew screeched as he was digging his hands into the sofa pillows.
"Let me put you on the potty," I suggested.
"No! I need pooooon! Poooon!" he yelled.
I then deduced Andrew's crinkled nose and clenched jaw that he must be constipated. "Oh! You need prunes?"
Andrew stomped on the floor with frustration. "Daddy! Poon! Poon! I need poon!"
I had no idea what Andrew was saying. Poo? Prunes? He started to climb over the sofa and dug his head between the pillows. I went to see what he was doing and moved some of the pillow around. Guess what I found at the bottom of the cushions? A toy spoon.
"Oh!" I said. "You need your SPOON!"
I handed him his toy spoon, and he mumbled something like, "Ash hole."
1 comment:
while i was reading this i really enjoyed the conversations that was with andrew!! i loved it!!!!!
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