Look what I found...

Sam: Awww mommy, I didn't know you used to work here. Oh the memories, the great memories you have here.

Me: (obviously laughing) how do you know what that is?

Sam: it's a name tag from a store.

Me: Yes, it is. Do know what it says?

Sam: No

Me: Good.

Sam: did you work there when you were a baby?

Me: Not exactly, but I was a lot younger. A LOT YOUNGER.

Sam: If I work there, can my name tag say turd Sam?

Me: Sure

Sam: Does your heart hurt because you can't work there?

Me: Ahhhhh no, now let's put that back in Mommy's shame bin.

The bridge to nowhere

2 months. For 2 months Sam has been doing this. When he goes #2, he wipes his butt with one end, then rolls he toilet paper out across the bathroom into the bathtub. He told me it was so his turds could escape. I'm not buying it..

Mom, who sings this song?

Me: Phil Collins

Sam: (pauses for a second) Sounds like a nice guy.

Me: Why do you say that?

Sam: Because his last name rhymes with nice.

Me: Umm, no it doesn't.

Sam: It does in my brain language.

Me: good point.

Hey bug, are you excited to fly today?

"Mom listen, when I have my eyes exploded and my butt-hole is wide open and farting, then you'll know I'm excited."

Oh for the love of god...

Today my new pet sitter came over. She is watching my zoo for 6 days, and I am extremely nervous. I think Sam picked up on my anxiety, and because of it wanted to "help". With Sam, "help" almost always means doing something that is going to finally push me over the edge into nervous breakdown canyon. I was downstairs finishing the dishes, because for some reason I was convinced that a pet sitter would look down on me for having dirty dishes. About 5 minutes into dishes, baby rope (Sam named this cat) came downstairs, with what looked like giant side parts in her fur. When I got a better look I realized that chunks of her hair were missing all over. I went upstairs and found Sam holding my other cat Sponge (he also named her) laying on the bed, peaceful as can be, while Sam chopped off her hair with play dough scissors. First of all, how in the fuck do play dough scissors cut cat hair? Anyway, I screamed at him, because I was already anxious about a stranger watching my pets and this was the last thing I needed. He explained to me, that the cats needed to look beautiful, because if they were too ugly, the lady would not feed them and they would die.

How do you argue with that? I mean, he makes sense. He is completely wrong, but he wasn't doing it to be mean. Wonderful, another time that I cannot punish my 4 year old, because he makes too good of an argument. Should be a blast when he's 14.

Oh goody....

Will someone please explain to me why boys are inherently obsessed with toilets? 90% of my daily cleaning that involves swearing, involves the toilet, and toilet related activities.
Honestly, the only way to avoid this stuff from happening is to follow him around constantly, like I had to when he was an toddler with mush legs. 5 free minutes to Sam, means head to the bathroom and do as much damage as possible.

Tonight Sam came down from bed to go to the bathroom. I figured he was half awake and would be too tired to screw around with the toilet. WRONG

I just went in there 5 minutes ago and found the above situation. Which is an entire roll of toilet paper rolled into the toilet with Venom (spider mans evil twin) thrown on top.

I went upstairs hoping he was still awake and he was. This is how the conversation went..

Me: Sam, why did you do that to the toilet?

Sam: What do you mean?

Me: I mean you rolled all the toilet paper into the toilet and threw venom in there. And now the toilet is clogged.

Sam: that's not venom mom, that is my poop. It just looks like Venom because I watch a lot of Spider man and now my poop looks like him.

Me: Sam, that is not true. You need to be honest with me because you made a big mess and I am very upset right now.

Sam: Okay, well the truth (pronounced Troof) is that Venom told me he was going to kill you, so I threw him in the toilet. I didn't' want you to die mom.

Me: Well thank you, but next time just punch him okay?

Sam: Okay, I'm glad your alive though.

Me: I am too Sam, goodnight.


Well I'm off to fish a evil twin out of the toilet and comprehend why my life has digressed to rescuing superhero shaped pieces of shit.

Do not trust this person.

A favorite past time of my son, is to say or do something extremely sweet, and then for comedic relief immediately do something violent or disgusting. It's almost as if my adoration for him makes him uncomfortable. Would you like an example? Here, let me share my morning with you...

7 am: I wake up with a 45 pound 4 year old sitting on my chest staring at me.

Me: Good morning baby, how are you today?

Sam: My lips aren't chapped anymore, and do you want to know why that is good?

Me: Of course

Sam: Because I need my lips to be able to smile, smiling reminds me of how much I love you.

7:05 AM. I stare in amazement, unable to speak because of the beautiful thing my son just said.

7:06. Sam starts to reach around in to his butt. Normally I would immediately sense danger, but because he just said something so profound I let it slide.

7:07 Sam pulls his hand out, with this creepy satisfied look on his face, says absolutely nothing and proceeds to smear shit on my arm.

7:08 Sam laughs, runs away while screaming "Turd arm, turd arm" as loud as he can. Honestly, I didn't even fight back. This must be his plan. He stuns me with kindness, and then wipes shit on me...literally.

*For those of you who are new to Sam stories, half of the time they involve poop. Poop has been a big part of my life for the past 4 years. So, hope you have strong stomachs...

On a side note, do you know what it is like to cook breakfast for a person who just shit on you? If he thinks I am making bacon he is out of his GD mind.