That deserves a round of applause

To My Husband: You might not want to read this post as it includes to things you complain about from my blog: you and penises.  I’m sorry you make an easy mark (and I mean that in the nicest way; you’re easy to set up and we love you for it.); it’s one of the reasons my father didn’t kill you when he learned how much older you were than me.  You know my family; we’re jokesters.  As for the penises, I did well enough the other day without mentioning them, so this isn’t about ratings.  By the way, I’m not slowly turning my blog into a hard porn blog; people would noticed. (Brownie points for those who got that last allusion. J )




My husband: (Walking back into the family room from using the restroom) Fae?  Have you noticed Tornado S following me into the bathroom lately?  (Sean toddles into the room.)


Me: Why, actually, I have.  (I pick up Tornado S who has run to me.)  Tornado E, get out of the almonds.  If you want a snack, you have to ask.  No almonds.  Mommy needs those.


My husband: He’s watching me pee.


Me: I figured.  You’re just curious, aren’t you, big guy?  Tee.  He’s learning; I think he’ll train earlier and easier than Tornado E.  (sigh) That would be cool.  Tornado E, I said no almonds.  Or pecans.


My husband: He claps when I finish.


Both my sons learned at an early age to clap when they did something special like throw the ball, somersault, roll a car, jump, dance, sing, basically anything to be proud of.  From there, it is only a month or so development to clap for other people’s achievements.  At eighteen months, Tornado E clapped enthusiastically when my great-aunt caught a ball he threw to her.  Tornado S, at fourteen months, would clap enthusiastically for Tornado E’s singing attempts.


Me: Well, you did a good job.  You never drip.  He’s proud of you.  All right, Tornado E.  No marshmallows.  Come on, Tornado S.  Let’s get you and your brother a snack before your brother climbs in there and gets the suckers.  Too late.


Being curious of all developments in the house, I snuck a peek at this performance next time my husband went to the bathroom.  Tornado S toddled in after his Daddy and stood in rapture as his father peed.  Then when my husband was finish, Tornado S, beaming from ear to ear, clapped with excitement.  You’d think that he was at The Bellagio.  Or maybe Tornado S thought his Daddy was being left out of the cheering Tornado E receives when he uses the bathroom.

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