So, Paul was in time-out (possibly over his gleeful attitude immediately following another poop-in-the-tub event, possibly not). I sat down on the time-out stairs and asked him why Daddy was so upset (possibly because he got stuck with cleaning-poo-water-off-of-a-slew-of-toys duty ((duty! *snicker*) again). Paul asked me why, and I asked him what he thought.
He crinkled his face into a perfectly quizzical look, tapped his head with an index finger, murmured "think, think, think. . ." and then said, "Mommy, when I tap my head like this, all I think about is a horse riding a fish."
Well played.
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