What Did You Call Me???

I get home, and after a short while (run to the toilet, play a quick game of Pac-Man on my phone, change shirts, check e-mail, etc.) my ever-growing boy decides I need to take him downstairs to play with trains. I lay down the instructions (no throwing toys, no hitting toys, no hitting Daddy, no hitting anyone, no hitting anything, no yelling, no whining, no hissy-fit if I need to change his diaper, no complaining if Mamma calls us up for dinner, no connecting 30 freight cars behind a small tank engine, no railway strikes, etc.)... and he seems to agree.

When we get to Mamma, I repeat the rules before we give her a hug and run downstairs. I've picked him up and ask him to give Mamma a hug... so when he reaches out with both hands I hand him off to her. Whoa! She didn't expect that, so we all laugh about it again. I ask him to give Mamma a kiss, but this time he only hugs her with one arm. The other is around my neck. (Evidently, this kid didn't just get off the banana boat let alone just fall of the turnip truck.) I try again, but there's no fooling this kid.

Dad: "Surely you can hug your Mamma with two arms."

Boy: "Don't call me Shirley."

Without missing a beat!

I coached him yesterday a few times, but he didn't really get it. Sure, he doesn't really get it now, but he knows it is somehow supposed to be funny... or at the very least, it makes Daddy laugh.

Beamming
With
Pride