September 01, 2006
And It Moves Us All
The other day, eleven-months preggo Billi commented that The Boy Child thinks she is carrying twins and wants to name them Superman and Batman. Frankly, I'm surprised he doesn't want to name them Yoda and Darth Vader, as he is very into Star Wars lately.
He and his dad, Brad, were watching "Star Wars: The... Um... One Where Yoda Dies" the other night. (My nerd powers do not reach far enough to retrieve which episode that is.)
Yes, he's only three, but Brad fast-forwards the really scary parts, and this is not your child! So shut up. At least Brad's not taking him to the theatre to see grown-up movies. I have no qualms with parents terrorizing their children in the privacy of their own homes.
So, Yoda's on his death bed, and he's making his dying speech, complete with moans and groans that sound (for obvious reasons) like Miss Piggy on a three-pack-a-day habit.
Boy Child was not all that concerned with Yoda's impending doom, but he was concerned with all the noises.
He turned a serious face to Brad and asked, "Is he trying to poop?"
For the Boy Child, everything comes back around to poop. It's his own little Circle of Life.