So imagine this: you take your family to a church Christmas pageant somewhere in Pennsylvania.
You get seats, the lights go down, and the pageant begins. There are kids in robes and soloists and teenage holy parents and an older guy playing the Angel Gabriel. There are live sheep. There's even a live (though female) Baby Jesus kicking around up there in the manger.
As everyone admires the beautifully lit and arranged tableau, and heavenly peace fills the room, a cherubic blond 2-year-old standing on his dad's lap announces, at full volume:
"There's Baby Jesus! He's just a baby. I'm a big boy and I go poop in the potty!"
Hopefully you were one of the people who thought this was funny.
So nice to see my family's genetics hard at work.
You get seats, the lights go down, and the pageant begins. There are kids in robes and soloists and teenage holy parents and an older guy playing the Angel Gabriel. There are live sheep. There's even a live (though female) Baby Jesus kicking around up there in the manger.
As everyone admires the beautifully lit and arranged tableau, and heavenly peace fills the room, a cherubic blond 2-year-old standing on his dad's lap announces, at full volume:
"There's Baby Jesus! He's just a baby. I'm a big boy and I go poop in the potty!"
Hopefully you were one of the people who thought this was funny.
So nice to see my family's genetics hard at work.
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1 comment:
And I only had to slip him $5 to get him to do that. I so love this story.
KW
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