PORT-A-POTTY'S DO NOT FLUSH!

I've never claimed that Kevin was a genius. (speaking of "genius"... when he was about 2, he figured out how to lay on his side, curled up around the base of the Sit-N-Spin, and turned the wheel... while yelling "WHOO HOO! I'm a GENIUS!". hehe)
While at Thomas's baseball game Saturday morning, one of the mom's turned to me and said "Um... is that your little boy in the blue t-shirt?"

This is a vital moment in time. The moment you try to decide whether or not to say "Why, yes. That IS my son. What has the little darling done now?" or..... "NOPE! But I see his DAD, standing over there by the fence. Why do you ask?"

*sigh*

I claim him. Because, he is, my child. At which point, she informs me that her little boy, who is 2, just told her "that boy ober der was cleanin duh potty. i yust watched, momma"

SHIT.
Literally.

Kevin went into the port-a-potty (yes... PORT-A-POTTY), and thought it was "backed up, because the toilet was full of toilet paper".... so he took it upon himself to CLEAN IT OUT.

SHIT.

He is *SO* blonde sometimes. "Kevin... HONEY... Port-A-Potty's DON'T FLUSH! It's like pooping in a bucket, and they come dump out the bucket about once a week. THEY DON'T BACK UP!"

I scrubbed, and scrubbed his little hands, but damn... that shit's nasty.
Literally.