My kids teeth are harder than my forehead and no I would not like to elaborate.
Son: daddy what happens to our poopy when we flush it?
Me: our poopy collects in what’s called a septic tank where it forms with all our other poopies to become one giant poopy monster waiting on our command to rise and destroy all our enemies.
Wife: okay no.
The year is 2073. My wife and I rest in side by side burial plots. Waking up in the middle of the night our 57yo son, for reasons beyond his understanding, digs a horizontal hole between us and gets in.
His head near his mother and his feet kicking my corpse, he sleeps.
Death: your time has come.
Me: no! not now!
Death: yes now.
Me: but… I have to poop?
Death: ……damn it. Go on then.
Me: wow that actually worked.
My toddler: *nods sagely*
My 2yo held my face in his hands and whispered oh-so seriously: “don’t go to work daddy, stay with me.”
And so, I am never going to work again.
Me: lol this guy is drunk after only two beers.
Wife: stop giving our toddler beer.
We had to cut our 2yo off from YouTube. Like any addict, he hasn’t responded well to going cold turkey but his irises aren’t red anymore so that’s good news.
2yo: daddy play with me!
2yo: *points* sit right here.
2yo: NO DADDY DON’T SIT THERE!
2yo: DON’T SAY OKAY!
Toddlers are fun because every so often they‘ll agree with almost anything you say.
Me: we’re going out tonight okay?
Me: we’re gonna get into some trouble.
Me: start a revolution.
Me: Then we’ll go to bed.
Friend: Hey man I haven’t seen you since you had a baby. How’s parenthood?
Me: Up at dawn. Milk. Survive. Distract. Feed. Milk. Distract. Physical activity. Feed. Milk. Asleep at sundown.
Friend: Hahaha sounds like farming.
Me: That’s right. Parents are kid farmers.