Last night was my night to put the Boy to bed. Super Ninja and I take turns because we would bleed from the ears if one of us were charged with putting the Boy to bed every night. At bedtime, the Boy has an attention span of a puppy. Getting him to focus on ONE book and succumbing to his sleepiness...well it can be a challenge.
Super Ninja often accuses me of actually winding the Boy up though, and in this, he is probably correct. Case in point? I did NOT help the Boy toward Dreamland when I guffawed at his interpretation of a word that was new to him.
We were reading "George Upside Down." At one point, George is sent to a tutor. The Boy pointed at the tutor and said, "He toots, because he's a tooter!"*
Tears. There were tears streaming out of my eyes. I know it's not that funny, but we are rapidly advancing toward the scatological conversations that were oft had at my own childhood dinner table. And oh, the hilarity that will ensue...
*'Toot' is how we refer to the inevitable act of passing gas. I just didn't want to be the parent of the kid who, in a crowded shopping mall, yells something like, "Mom! I just RIPPED ONE!"