Loren’s three today!
And if I’ve learned anything from him the last few weeks, it’s that the above counts as an excellent knock-knock joke punch-line, regardless of the setup.
But yes, Loren turned three years old today and even though I’m rarely posting these days I felt obligated* to at least commemorate it with a brief post.
*Love you, hon.
Our big boy is in pre-school now. Doing what, exactly, I’m never too sure. I ask him for details every time I pick him up, but he’s three years old so he’ll smile back at me and say “I don’t know!” and then ignore my pestering for answers. In the meantime I try to ask the teachers what they have planned and how he’s doing, but I’m also trying not to be *that parent* interrogating her during drop-off and pick-up every day.
Of course, there is one thing I always investigate when I first arrive at pickup: whether he’s wearing the same pants he had on when I dropped him off a few hours earlier, or if he had a pee-pee accident and needed to dip into his extra pants reserves we keep in his backpack. So far he’s doing really well (especially considering how little we’d done to push him into the world of potty-trained children). Accidents still happen (so Loren likes to remind me whenever he has one – “It’s ok, dada, that happens…”), but they aren’t as frequent as I thought they’d be. He’d holding his own…sometimes quite literally.
Which brings me back to the title of this post:
Knock, knock…[you say "who's there?"]…[then I set up the rest of the joke and then tell you a standard knock-knock joke pun-tastic punchline, then you are supposed to try really, really hard to go poo-poo on the potty.] At least, that’s the going rate for a toddler deuce these days in our house.
So yes, in case you were wondering what I’ve been up to these days, I have reduced myself to telling knock-knock jokes for giggles…and shits.
Happy third birthday to our big boy Loren.