Lunch with Uncle Randy, No farting.

Braden’s Uncle Randy is in town right now for Country Music type thingies (he’s a badass DJ in San Antonio) and we picked him up at his hotel for lunch on Monday.  The last time Randy saw Braden was when his butt still fit in the palm of my hand.  (Braden’s, not Randy’s.  I’ve never had Randy’s butt in my hand, just for the record.)

After Braden woke up (he fell asleep in the car on the way) he made sure to tell his Uncle Randy “Hiiiii!” about seventy times.

Have I mentioned that he really likes to say “Hi” to people?  Yeah.  He totally does.

Luckily, Randy didn’t fart during lunch or Braden would have been yelling, “FARTER! FARTER!” over and over again.  That’s his other favorite thing to say.  Like when we’re at Kroger shopping and someone else’s shopping cart wheel makes a fart noise.  And then he starts saying that really loud over and over again (FARTER!  FARRRRTER!)… and all I can do is almost shit myself laughing (because, hello?  that is hilarous).  Which is great, since then I’d smell like turds and that would at least confirm for everyone what they were already thinking – that I ACTUALLY FARTED and he’s busting me.

Ahh…  well, that’s what I get for being the one who taught him how to say that in the first place, eh?

Of course, by the way, Braden was a complete Angel all through lunch (Elmo DVD on travel sized DVD player helped).  Randy mentioned that Braden was nowhere near as troublesome as I made him seem on my blog.

And so it goes – the child is, as they always are, successful at charming and fooling everyone else into thingking he is NOT actually a demon spawn from the pits of hell (yes, my uterus is hell) but is actually a sweet, little cherub of light and joy.
Ohhh, beware yea – those of you who are fooled by the little rosy-cheeked prince.  He will have your souls.

Want to babysit for a few days, Uncle Randy?