Weep, weep, mine eyes, my heart can take no rest. says the Lego.

Here's what went on today, in your favorite reality series, "In The Bathroom".

D: "Dad."
Me: "That's me."
D: "Dad, get ready to look in my poop"
Me: "I'm less than completely thrilled with everything about this already."
D: "Dad, there might be a Lego in my poop."
Me: "Thank you. Those kind of clues really help me."
D: "You see, yesterday I was getting Legos together with my teeth and one went in and I ate it and it might be in my poop so it might be there now. It was a teeny tiny one."
Me: "I suppose you mean the Lego and not the poop."
D: "Yeah. So, is it there?"
Me: "Might be. Maybe it's hiding. Some things like their privacy. Lego just went through a tough time, lets just give 'em some space. Also, nobody will be launching search operations into any poop today at all whatsoever. Okay?"
D: "Okay."

Your idea of urine is too limited*

The three and one half year old human uses JJ Abrahams logic* on me in the john.

3.5 yr old: DAAAAAAAAAD
Me: [poking head in to the bathroom] Yes.
3.5: I'm done. [pulls shorts up over legs, leaving vital area exposed, saunters past me to harass dog]
Me: What happened here? [I'm inspecting the toilet area incredulously]
3.5: huh?
Me: What is that covering everything?
3.5: Um, I think that's pee.
Me: Great. when did this happen?
3.5: That was... Um... I did that.

...but I didn't do it today.

Me: OK. When did you do it then.
3.5: Tomorrow

Busted.

The three year old has learned to deploy language and sensory perception to get what is important in life.

DaDa! [hug]. 

[brings face in, close] [sniffs], "I want choclit.You smell like choclit; I want some"

Cross fitting

"GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME!"

I had seen a trusted friend do this once, long ago. Yell at the fat on your belly. Today I stood in the yard and yelled at a mass of extra weight attached to my midsection. It got there by itself. Somehow, it took advantage of these times I have spent accompanying Preggy in her newly-enhanced feeding schedule, as an act of solidarity.

The stuff did not come off. Maybe it needs louder. I tried louder. The neighbor came out. I went in.

High volume encouragement does not reduce fat. Back then, it did not work for Armando either. But I had long suspected that his failure was due to his state of inebriation and the unforgiveable hour at which he decided to embark upon that vanguardist aesthetic procedure. Mine was a paradigm of scientific rigor: midday in the suburbs, with nothing more than 6 cups of old coffee in the system, and a three-year old chiming in, belatedly cheering in tandem. Two guys hollering at their lower abdominal areas. Crom must nod sagely at the preparations.



No.

So I looked around at stuff to do in the way of workout and exercise and ended up watching drummers. It is logical. One of them happened to promote a gym! The search tactic was an obvious success. "Crossfit" is the organization. I can get back in shape!

So now, I looked them up and there is a chapter in New Jersey. The members of Crossfit New Jersey share a common motivation. It is to achieve the ejection of one's lower spine from the body, through the wall behind you as the climax of a given procedure.

I think I will get past my Physical Therapy Beginners' hip thrusts first. And air drum. Lots of air drumming.

my primate interpersonal skills evinced

Preggo approaches me at the sofa and says "Oh god my tummy feels like it wants to leap onto my back its yukky i don't know what to eat and I was too uncooked to think this morning forgot to wish you a happy birthday I didn't get you anything"
me: "Yeah that's OK, I'm stealing your headphones then for my birthday"
ono: "...                            what headphones"
"the ones I got for your birthday 4 years ago."

I really did think she would use them. Quit looking at me like that.

"Oh"
"Got them for you to go the gym? but you don't seem to want a lot of music at the gym"
"I don't have a membership to the gym. I haven't seen the inside of a gym in years."

Somehow I thought it would make it better.

Plus, I needed new headphones.

 

And so it is. like you said it would be. Life goes peepee on me.

You've been there. You're absent mindedly wandering the house and the body decides to initiate the shower sequence, of its own accord. Suddenly you realize a Brad Pitt is imminent. Not that its the prime mover, but you figure since you'll be in there it might as well all happen at once. Separately.
Now, if I wander towards the underwear drawer and pull out the cleanest dirty pajama pants in preparation, Ono will inevitably have made her way towards the bathroom door. With intent to bathe.
Quantum physics shows some quarks go up at the same others go down even if they are separated by distance, complete days-end oblivion, and heat stress.
Ono will then have the "oh just hurrying in there, nothing to worry about" look. Which does nothing to dissuade the radar ass that has taken the helm of my self.

And monsters live in the downstairs toilet sometimes. But we don't talk about that. Gotta go down there now. And go there unannounced.
Which is why we have an announcer:

He has a head. 

I just cant find any pictures of it among all the pictures in the damn hard drive.

 He goes in, point man. Loyal pup, no question. One gentle shove, block and kneepush and off he goes to assure me the area is secure. The turkey slices at the bottom of the stairs are just proof of his disinterested performance. Or a busted schnoz.