Why is today so stupendously great? Because my wife and child are slogging through the 99.9% humidity, and I’m at my climate-controlled, toy-strewn workspace. And since the project I’m working on requires the absolute minimum of concentration, I’m watching the U.S. Open and cranking up all of my wife’s least-favorite CDs.
This ... is the life.
This morning, Robert and I went off on one of our goofy riffs, which admittedly might not be all that amusing if you’re not us. The subject was Robert’s regularity. See, Robert’s BMs (going by Mr. Rogers’s delicate terminology) observe a refreshingly steady schedule: once a day, sure as sunrise. Except those days when the sun doesn’t rise, and my wife and I take note of the forbidding storm clouds on the horizon:
She: Did Robert poop yesterday?
Me: Not on my watch.
She: Not on my watch, either.
Me: Thank goodness. I’d hate to have poop on my watch.
Robert: There’s poop on my watch!
Me: Eeeeuuw! Poop on my watch!
Robert: Eeeeuuw!
Then it spiraled off into oblivion.
Me: Is there Poupon on my watch?
Robert: Poop-on poop!
Me: “Pardon me. Is there any Poupon poop on my watch?”
Robert: Poupon poop on my poop-on!
Me: I think we have a coupon for Poupon poop...
Robert: Poop-on soup!
Me: What will we put our coupon for Poupon soup on?
