Potty Like a Rock Star

I diapered the muppets. For fun (I know – we get ca-razy here), I let the boys wander around in their diapers while I went to dispose of the evidence.

In the 60 seconds I was away, I heard a crash and a cackle.

When I returned, Search was playing quietly by his toy chest. A diaper lay ominously open in the middle of the floor. I did not see Destroy. (Don’t worry – unlike previous posts, this diaper was perfectly clean.) But I did hear the chords of “Wild Thing” punctuated by liberal use of a plastic whammy bar coming from behind the couch.

Behind the couch, standing centered in front of the French sliding door, was a very naked Destroy – rocking out on his guitar. Bopping up and down, I watched my little rockstar continue his set with “Message in a Bottle” and offer up a finale of “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” (He is quite the little lover boy you know.)

After several more hits on the whammy bar, Destroy raised his Little Tykes electric guitar high above his head and smashed it down to the ground. A true rocker – with quite a flair for the dramatic.

I applauded. Destroy clapped back.

He dropped to his knees and began pounding on his keyboard. Encore! Encore!

Upon completion, he picked up his sippy cup of milk and began chugging. Mid-sip he grabbed his brother’s cup and held it high above his head. Alternating between the blue cup and the green cup, my newly milk-mustachioed little man gorged himself on the dairy contained in the two straw cups he was double-fisting.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

Who wouldn’t enjoy a spectacular intimate live performance?

Destroy drunkenly stumbled over toward me. Perhaps a bit of after-show over-indulgence… He continued toddling right past me – over to where his police motorcycle rocker was. He pressed the siren and stared, momentarily transfixed by the blinking red lights.

He turned. He looked at me; he looked at his brother. He glanced back down at the motorcycle.

Then he peed on it.

And I uttered yet another phrase that sounded entirely foreign as the words left my mouth.

“Damnit! Destroy, we do not pee on police vehicles in this house.”

I always thought music would make my guys little geniuses. Apparently Destroy is looking for the more exotic angle from classical music performances. How young is old enough to start piano lessons?

And decades down the line? Though he may not be Johann Sebastian Bach, there’s no need to be afraid of him – although it just might be your daughter on the bus.

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  1. Pingback: The Penalty Box | Stream of the Conscious

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