First, we're on the couch with some buenies and I called him a baby.
"Dada, I'm not a baby!"
"No? Well, what are you then?
"I'm a BEAUTIFUL BOY!"
Proof he does (occasionally) listen to me!
And a bit later, we were playing Play Doh and while crouching on the coffee table he declared
"Dada, I LOVE you I LOVE you I LOVE you I LOVE you I LOVE you I LOVE YOU!"
loudly enough to wake up the wife and prompt the sleepy comment "That was pretty great" from the bedroom.
Lest this idyll create a false impression of unending delight, I emerged from the shower roughly 45 minutes later to find the wife in the hallway growling red-faced "he WOULDN'T GET DRESSED and I CAN'T FIND THE KEYS."
In the living room Fuss sat unconcerned in the midst of epic devastation, the finale of A Better Tomorrow II essayed with Play Doh instead corpses.
If he'd been holding a samurai sword, it would have been perfect.
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