You know how smarty pants kids and obnoxious adults like to read fortune cookie fortunes with the oh-so clever addendum "in bed?" In the last week, Lil E has come up with his own addendum, randomly placed on the ends of sentences about lunch, the park, Dragon Tales, his friends, anything he considers of substance or simply needing a bit of boy-flavored spice. His versions of "in bed," however, are all about monsters and poop (which are arguably one and the same if you are a Freudian or a parent somewhere in the potty training timeline). They go something like this:
"I saw Sammy at the park and we played on the slide and ran in the field...and then a monster came and scared us away."
"I saw Sammy at the park and we played on the slide and ran in the field...and then I pooped on his head."
The incessant potty talk both amazes and exhausts me. Who knew there were so many ways and so many opportunities to bring waste into the equation? I sometimes delude myself into believing this is just another exercise of his creativity and advanced verbal skills. But who am I kidding? He's almost three and this is what wee people do (wee people! ha! see it's catching).
Perhaps even more startling is how the potty talk has invaded his love of golf ("Does Tiger poop? Does Tiger poop on the green? What if there's poop in the hole?"), music and dancing ("Let's do a poop dance!" What kind of music does my penis make? Can I drum on my penis, mommy?"), and yes, even American Idol ("In the new American Idol, will Gina sing? Does Gina poop on the stage? When I'm a musician and I play all the instruments on stage, I will poop on your head!"). For the love of reality television, child, stop!
Alas, it is hard for Lil E to separate his obsession from his art, which led us to our living room one afternoon last week, the keyboard turned up to 11 and the boy singing in full voice into the microphone. Soulfully, seriously, lyrically, this his song:
The digger is digging in the dirt.
The digger is digging on the sidewalk.
Somebody pooped on the digger!
I think it was the construuuuuuction workerrrrr.
There's nothing more to say, really. Just the moan of the electric guitar, the slowing beat of the bongo, the notes of the piano outro and a final flush and fade to black.