out of the mouths of babes

I made a joke once about someone dropping a bomb in the bathroom. Andrew was perplexed by what I meant, so I explained it. He ended up getting the timing perfect and used that phrase when we both went into the bathroom. He asked if I dropped one. Well, we laughed and laughed. Positive reinforcement. He says it all the time now.
We walked into a bathroom at the grocery store, it was stinky. "Who dropped the bomb?".
We walk into a clean public bathroom, "This one is sparkly! No one dropped a bomb!"

Now if only he'd quit complaining about having to pull his pants up.

Say cheese, seriously, SAY cheese

We took a family photo. Ten of us. I thought I was highly successful in getting Andrew to wear a collar shirt. You don't understand. Anything on his neck is apparently asinine to him. I stared the pep talk yesterday and today, not even a squeak. Instead he channeled all that energy into squeezing his eyes shut for every single photo. EVERY single photo. Kudos to him for sticking tongue out in some of them.

Elsie was fine until she realized she wasn't in my arms. Worse when she figured the stuffed animals were for eye and face orientation only, not loving and squeezing.

At the end, we have an eclectic blend of facial expressions and a life long photo of the greats.