Ha! This incident absolutely cracks me up still, and it must have occurred in 2012, although it is the incident, not the date, that I recall. Bloody kids!
As always, John Lee Hooker & ZZ Top are embedded within the groovy picture above. Click it after the read below.
Austin, 3, “Dad, I just saw your willy.”
I was in the shower at the time. “that’s good Austin.” says I. 15 second contemplative interlude. “Dad. I’ve got a willy.” “Good Austin”. A silence filled minute passes, and a toothbrush now fills my hand. “Dad, is Seven 45 (the cat) a boy?” “gargle spit. “Yesh Aushtin. Sheven 45 ish a boy. Spit, spit.”
Child leaves bathroom, I employ a mildly damp towel, cursing myself for not having the foresight to have bought a fresh one with me earlier.
The absence of noise causes an arousal of suspicion for me.
Mimicking Leichardt I move toward the lounge room now. I encounter hushed voices escaping from a couch. I see two sets of feet extending from behind said recreational device. I spy a tail. A tail which oddly matches that of said intrepid cat “Seven 45”. Tail is flicking, hushed voices in deep discussion.
Three faces gaze up at me. Two questioning, one fur covered, in either the clutches of mild terror, or by appearance at least, portraying a face in the throws of constipation.
Archer, 18 months old and all man. “Dad, dad, dad”
Austin and sticky one and a half year old partner in crime, utilising gravity to the full, laying not unkindly, but fully upon said feline beastie.
“Dad. I can’t find his willy, and you said he had one!!”
Children lifted, cat breaks sound barrier, father steps on cunningly placed pointed toy of pain and misery, trips, curses, loses towel (damper), lands in cursing and untidy heap.
“See Archer, that’s where Dads willy is. Lets get puss again and have another look.” Children running, father cursing. Cat escapes intact. Willy yet to be found.