theBoy is creating comedy routines. Some work, some do not.
Here's one that didn't. It involved me hearing a running tap noise at the bath where theBoy had just dashed to and was awaiting emplacement within only for me to find him gleefully urinating over the bath's rim and into the water and treating the entire business as a giant stretched-to-the-right super toilet.
I was not happy. Especially as when he was sprung in flagrante he turned to his left and hosed down a section of floor tile.
That little bit cost him the rest of his night's scheduled activities—which is typically twenty minutes of free story play and three regular (i.e. book) stories. Unless that was he redeemed himself. Fortunately he did and we did have a great free story play time that was especially super entertaining for me.
Still. I was irked.
However this bit worked.
We were standing in the kitchen when we heard a dragging noise coming up the corridor. Well it sounded like dragging, but it turned out it was pushing. He was in his pyjamas, lying on the floor on his stomach. His head was in theWife's green plastic mesh clothes hamper, lying on its side. He kept going, at a turtle's pace, grind pushing himself along, his head resting on the green plastic mesh as he slid out of view.
That's worming gold.