Mack kept saying “Let’s talk about poop.” Or he’d say, “C’mon, Molly. Let’s go in here and say poo-poo.” I had enough, so I told him that if he didn’t stop saying that nasty word that I would pop his hiney and then pop his little nasty mouth.
He walked by me, pointed to me and said, “Good luck with that, Sheriff Mom.”
Yes, he did.
Is it just me or are they a tad cuter before they can talk?