So I'm putting Rakes to bed tonight while Ang is attempting to get Trot to brush his teeth, go to the bathroom and get into bed in less time than it takes the average snail to cross an 8 lane super highway. And in case you're wondering, the snail could navigate the 485 or whatever it is in L.A. quicker than it takes Trot to do those 3 seemingly trivial tasks.
As I'm just about at the part in the bedtime prayer of "Now I lay me down to sleep..." I hear Ang belly laughing in Trot's bedroom. Mind you, this could signify a multitude of things, from losing whatever is left of her sanity to that sound crazy people make before they break down in tears and start calling into Glenn Beck's radio show with invitations to join their newest Tea Party group.
This laugh-fest was legitimate, however, and exemplifies the phrase "Trot being Trot" to perfection.
As Ang looked down lovingly at her youngest child, and with adoration and affection running through her veins, told our little bundle of chaos "Trot, I can't believe that 4 years ago you were in my tummy and now it's almost your birthday".
Trot, in his sweetest voice and with total seriousness then asked.......
"Mom. Why did you eat me?"
He's turning 4 in four days.
You've been warned.
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