Finding words in his drool: Crazy or Observant?
Every morning, when I walk in to free my little twinkies from their baby prison, I open the door and put on an expression like I am absolutely shocked to see them there.
“My men!” I exclaim. “My men are here! I am so glad to see my man-boys!”
I gasp. I swoon. I tell them I am so lucky to have such manly men in my life.
They. Eat. It. Up!
I’m telling ya. You’ve never seen such excitement. There’s booty scooting, there’s clapping, there’s foot-stomping, and of course, smiles and giggles.
What can I say? I’m kind of a big deal.
This morning was like every other morning. I walked in, feigning astonishment that my mini-men were there. I walked over and grabbed Wyatt first (I take turns on who gets sprung from baby jail each morning). Mr. Drooleypants Wyatt was, well, drooley.
“It’s my ma-” I began, and then stopped. I was looking down at his shirt.
In very obvious letters, a word was spelled out… in drool, mind you, along the collar of his shirt.
No…
That didn’t say what I think it said, did it?
Surely, I’m going insane. Who honestly sees anything but drool, when they’re looking at drool?
I looked again.
I ran out of the room to grab my phone to snap a picture. (And Wyatt subsequently freaked out because I had totally faked him out by almost picking him up and then leaving. Can’t blame him, I guess, that’s not a part of our manly-charade/routine.)
Here is what I saw. Tell me I’m not going crazy.
Tell me, dammit!
See it?
Here, I’ll zoom in:
It say’s “Man!”
Turns out, he is my man. His saliva says so!
(Or “Map.” Though I’m not sure how he could be a map. Maybe he’ll be really good at directions?)
Amazing.
My life has come to this: Finding letters in drool. What’s next? Cheetos shaped like the Virgin Mary?
