I'm out front of the house, dead-heading the rose bushes, marveling at mother nature, not even minding getting a little poke from a thorn. I head inside for a quick minute, and ask Adobe, "Where's Phoenix?" She has 'no idea'; she's totally absorbed in creating her comic strip "The Adventures of the Retarded Hamster" - which I believe is in response to her friend's short film she saw this morning. I find Phoenix out back, with his shorts and underwear on the ground near him, spitting on a pile of his own poop, which is already totally covered in flies. Ewww. "And mommy, I'm cryin' 'bout it." (That's his new thing when he has an accident. But he's not crying. He just likes to say that for some reason - thinks it makes it better. I guess it's an expression of remorse. :) Picked the poop up with some t.p. and flushed it.
Luckily, it's warm enough out that I just got the hose and sprayed the residue off the ground, hosed down the undies and shorts, and then hosed him down like the little animal that he is. :)
And luckily, most of the time he's really adorable. Like this. All in a day's work....
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| collaborative effort - he asked me for 'batman' |
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Reminds me of soo many good times, partially shaved heads,naked bodes covered in paint. Isaiah used to compulsively write on walls, but he wrote other peoples names thinking I'd loose his trail. It's harder now, they do "crappy" things but they just aren't as cute. That's when ya gotta dig deep:)
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