Again! I have no time to entertain you. And again, he pulls through.

My co-workers think I’m insane from all the giggling I do at my computer screen.

Unedited e-mail:

As I’m sitting in the rocking chair getting Simon wound down for bed, he’s on the floor playing with a car and grunt grunt grunting away. After some time, he’s quiet and no longer out of breath. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow and continues playing with the car.

I say, as if I really need to ask, “Simon? You have poopies?”
Simon stands up, says, “FART!” and runs away.

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