Toilet Tales (Will Sam need counseling later b/c I blog this?)

I know I always used to write about Tate, and now Sam
has entered into the "say everything understand
nothing" phase that keeps us so entertained...

He was using the restroom, which is quite an event
around here the last two months.... "Here come the
poop bombs!! C'mon, Mom, RUNNNNN!!!" and then lots of
singing and "Stay in here with me mom but don't look
at me.... Did you look at me?! Go right outside the
door but stay there... Are you there mom? Don't leave
me. NOOOO! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!!! I need
pwwwivacy!..... Thank you..... Mom??? Are you there?"

Tonight after about ten minutes of this, I finally
said, "What in the world are you doing???" I peeked in
and he was patting his head with one hand and
balancing himself with the other. He said, "I
am trying to pat the rest of the poop out, will you
help me?" I just stared at him so he clarified:
"Mom, hit my head weally hard like this."
(Demo of slapping his own head) "I think
some of my poop is stuck." So I patted his head, then
harder, like he asked, and he is all done now.

You honestly can't make this stuff up.