We were driving home on evening when a huge cloud of exhaust from a lawn mower blew in front of the car. Even though the windows were up, it stunk and George said, "Pee-yew! That smells bad! Like my poop!"
Me: Joe, where's the vacuum?
Joe: Outside. Dad's using on the body.
Me: You mean the car, right?
When I was visiting my parents, I called home to make sure everyone (Adam) was still alive. The connection was bad and all I heard was, "We didn't go to the ER! Can't talk now, bye!"
Now, Adam and I joke a lot. Something told me he wasn't joking, though! I actually called my friend Jen to do a re-con mission at my house to see what the heck had happened. Not two minutes later, I got a text from our SLP reminding me there was no speech this week and that George had slipped during his lesson. He had busted open his chin.
Really, the poor kid has enough oral issues without cutting his mouth open!
Me: Man, I hate it when all the reading and prayers in church, like, speak to you and crap.
Adam: Awe, did you get bit by the Holy Spirit?
Me: No. I got smacked upside the head with His cast iron frying pan.*Again*
We were outside, questioning Cole on why he had poo on his tushie but, um, not in his underwear.
Me: Cole, did you poo in the potty?
Cole: NO POOP POTTY!
Me: Where did you put your poop?
Cole: [evil grin] HOUSE!
Nice work saying "house" buddy but the rest of the conversation concerns me.