It rained yesterday. A. Lot. That means the worms came out. And that means that Dear Son was very happy. He likes to hold a "wormy" and say, "I love him!" He carries it around in his hand like his most prized possession. He drives it around in his Cozy Coupe and pretends to take it to the doctor (I have no idea).
After dragging it around in his pudgy little palm for a good long while, it was time to go inside. "Wormy," as far as I was concerned, was not invited inside. The problem was that Dear Son was not going inside without his "Wormy." I finally suggested that he put "Wormy" down for a nap in his "crib," the cup holder in Daddy's lawn chair (see picture below). At first Dear Son didn't want anything to do with that idea and was not, under ANY circumstances, going to put "Wormy" down anywhere.
Then he suddenly decided it was a good idea after all, and plunked "Wormy" down in Daddy's cup holder while he said under his breath, "Daddy will love that." It's what I was thinking as I made the original suggestion to him. Apparently I mumbled it out loud, though I didn't remember doing so. Who knows, maybe Dear Son wasn't repeating me. Maybe he really came up with the sarcasm himself. It's not like he never hears sarcasm around our house or anything.
The last picture has nothing to do with the worm story, it's just a picture of the kids taken the same day, traveling into outer space on the big-ass lawn mower. I later commented to Dear Husband that it was no wonder the doggone thing cost so much. We paid for an option that we didn't even know it had.