would the title of this morning's chapter of Fuss' autobiography.
I'm told the lady gave him the crayon, the pink crayon, and he can draw snakes and lightning bolts and boots with it. And Dada draws shapes, squares and circles and triangles.
The lady was standing next to a giant robot...like this one, he explained, hefting the white knock-off of a popular robot that he'd made us buy him at Achievement House.
He tried on Mama's shoes, walked into the kitchen and yelled 'hey, these ones don't FIT!'
Also he's been hiding forks and crayons in the crock pot.
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