After arriving home from a birthday party last night, Cookie Monster seemed quite worried. He was on the toilet, shouting something to me. I asked him what he was saying and was quite shocked by the response: "There's dust on my wee-wee!"
What? I yelled for dad, who was half-asleep on the couch. He emerged as I asked Cookie Monster what the problem was.
Running into the room naked as the day he was born, he repeated "My wee-wee is dusty."
"Ever have that problem?" I asked dad, who sat on the chair, with his eyes open wide and a slight grin on his face.
The dust, I soon discovered, was lint from his dark-colored underwear.
My, my.
Both grandparents found that quite amusing, as did great-grandma.
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