Tonight was the boy’s night to be “squiggle butt.” He couldn’t sit still in his seat throughout dinner. He must have spun around 50 times if he did it once. If he wasn’t spinning in the chair, then he was on all fours with his rear in the air and his face looking at the floor. I can only assume that he was attempting to regurgitate for the dogs in some way, since they continually hovered around him whenever he struck this pose. I didn’t bother to look because, frankly, I didn’t want to know.
We asked him to stop his dancing repeatedly. At one point, the Wife told him “We’ll have to call you squiggle butt brownie.” That’s an oblique reference to Fudgy, in case you’re wondering. Of course the lass decided to chime in, agreeing with her Mom. She was just glad someone else was being referred to as squiggle butt. The boy retorted “Well you’re squiggle butt fudgy.”
To which the lass replied, fingering wagging, deadly-serious facial expression, her eyes sweeping between the boy and myself (who had not uttered a word throughout), with a calm assertiveness much beyond her 3 years “Now- Dad and “boy”, I told you two not to call me squiggle butt anymore.”
The Wife almost fell on the floor laughing.
3 replies on “The Lass Speaks”
Apparently, this ‘war of words’ is going to require it’s own blog page !
“Boy” and Dad can officially check their pants at the door, when they arrive home from school and work.
Yeah, OK.
Amusingly enough, when she said it, for just a fraction of an instant I started thinking “But I didn’t do anything” and then I remembered I’m the parent.