His birfday

One of the little people that lives here had a birthday a few weeks ago. I thought, like many a parent might, that I would try to get a few pictures of him on his special day. Try being the key word there, since he screams and runs away from the camera now. Where did I find him? In a laundry basket, of course, and wearing nothing but his underwear.

"Dude, how old are you now?"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh... NOOOOOOO!"



"I'm just taking pictures of the laundry basket, don't worry."

"Oh. Are you taking pictures of the laundry basket?"

"Yep. So how old are you?"



"FOUR!"

"And what's that on your arm?"

"It's a Sand Shark. A Sand Shark tattoo. Because the Great White Shark ripped in half. It ripped into TWO pieces, and I didnint want it to do that."

"I know, I was sad when that happened too. Why are you four?"

"Because it's my birfday. Because I came out from you in the green car. Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Why in the world did you do that?"

"Because I didnint want to wait!"



"Your Grandmas think that was silly. Why are you hanging out in a laundry basket?"

"Because I want to."

"Are you going to the moon?"



"No. This is a summarine."

"A submarine? Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"Huh. Well, should we go to Dairy Queen and get ice cream with sprinkles, since it's your birthday?"

"With SPRINKLES!"

"But you have to get dressed first."

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Noooooooo!"