Ever since he could turn a doorknob, Robert has exulted in throwing the apartment door open and skittering out into the hallway, often punctuating his departure with a door-slam that rattles the lobby mailboxes.
And ever since I started working again, he's enhanced the charade by grabbing my shoulder bag and announcing that he's "leaving for work" or "going to a meeting" and will "see-you-later-bye-I-love-you" *SLAM*.
So here's the new wrinkle: He still likes to announce to anyone who'll listen that he's off to work "just like Daddy." But lately, when he leaves, he's been stripping off his pants and underwear and sprinting half-naked toward the elevator, often cackling like a loon.
It makes me wonder what he thinks I do for a living.