Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Potty training and truly his father's son

All day yesterday found my son running around in his new big boy underwear and a shirt. He was so proud of his Spiderman underwear that he didn't have a single accident all day. Man were we proud! As in Phil and I. But apparently Ironman doesn't have the same appeal, because within an hour of putting it on, Matthew had a huge accident in it. Sigh. We'll get back on track a little later today. Mom needed time to regroup! And you ask, why is he truly Phil's son? You already know they look alike and both have quite the sense of humor, but last night was the final proof I needed. Matthew hitched up his little butt check and squeezed out a fart! Matthew is NOT my son! 100% Dad's.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

(Snicker!)

Auntie said...

I expect it has dawned upon you that your are out-numbered!

Auntie said...

It may be an armed forces kind of thing, too. I recently read a first-person account of being a boot. He said that loud farts and the ability to belch upon command were prized traits...