We were at the store this morning and I was checking out. Tyler was in the cart and chattering away. I was not paying any attention to him. Next thing you know, things start to click and I realized what the little bugger was saying. Ever so matter of factly, he was telling the cashier that 'Katie have poop in her butt, and animals have poop in their...' and I cut him off at the pass. Thankfully the cashier didn't understand what he was saying, and I pushed the cart forward so he couldn't give her anymore helpful biology lessons.
In other news, Dad preached in church on Sunday. It was a superb sermon if you ask me, which you can listen to here. All week I had teased him about bringing my giant foam hand to wave around and yell things like 'Amen!' and 'Preach it, Brotha!' Shortly before the message, he looked so serious it was painful. He was in the preaching zone...Minister mode...the clergy cloud. OK, I'll stop now. Anyway, I wrote him a note on the back of a receipt and passed it over to him. He read it, smiled and went to pass it back. Then, he changed his mind and kept it. Mom and I looked at each other with an 'Oh, no!' look. Mom told me I was sunk. And she was right. Dad got up and said I passed him a note which read 'Dad, unfortunately I couldn't find my giant foam hand, so I brought my kazoo instead. I hope you don't mind.' And it felt just like old times.
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Aw I'm sorry I missed meeting your folks! I'll listen to the message later today. Love the foam hand, haaaa
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