morning with the fuss

A few good bits this morning.

First, I'm looking for my cup of coffee.

"Hmmm, now where did I put my coffee? Oh! There it is!"

"Dada, I love you! You're so GREAT at finding coffee!"

Next, I'm in the bedroom reading. He comes rampaging in, sees me, climbs up on the bed and flops down next to me on his back, laying his hands on his chest and patting them gently.

"Now," he says, giving me a composed look, "what seems to be the problem?"

Later, talking to the wife in the bathroom, he wanders in with two big, flat beach rocks we brought home from Montana De Oro a long time ago.

"Look at what I made...a ROCK SANDWICH!"

And, in the interest of balance, lest anyone get the idea that any stretch of time with Fuss is all sweetness, light and hilarity, the Wife stopped him from crushing his fingers in the bathroom door and her rewards was a weeping collapse in the hallway, combined with attempts to kick her legs. This snowballed into a hysterical crying fit necessitating ten-odd minutes of full contact comforting before we could head out the door to a playdate with Bryony & Calan.


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