This morning, I asked Ryan to clean up the scrambled eggs that fell on his chair. Evan suggested that he do so by licking it like a dog. ("It's more fun that way!") This led to a discussion of whether fart molecules can penetrate wood.
Sometimes, I think God must pop in an old tape of 13-year-old Amy, daydreaming about her future adult life which probably varied, but never ever (ever) involved 4 boys and a toilet-humor-loving spouse. And then God laughs and laughs, like he's watching Frasier.