I Soiled my Armor

This morning, around 6am, Fletch reminded me of what he thinks of me, exactly. You see, there we were, in the midst of an otherwise nondescript diaper change when The Boy thinks to himself, "You know, I think Daddy is being a bit cavalier about our relationship. I think I need to demonstrate who is boss here." And so he poos on me.

Of course, he poos all over himself too, but that right there goes to my point. So deep is his committment to asserting his dominance over his pop that Fletch is willing to soil himself, because, after all, he knows that I will clean it up. One has to admire that level of dedication. "Clean it up, b*tch." And who would have thought that The Boy has already added "b*tch" to his vocabulary? Where does he get such language? It certainly is not from either me or his mommy, and I can certainly assure you, the reader, that no expletive ever escaped my lips in front of him. Even when covered in seedy green poo-poo.

Oh, you think that saying "seedy green poo-poo" was offside? Pshaw. Trying being covered in it.

PS: If you did not catch the Monty Python allusion in the title, check out the following YouTube snippet from Monty Python's Holy Grail.