poo-wus   not a poo-wus

not a poo-wus fan
yet they do help carry big
piles of crap around

The wee one has a thing for purses. He loves ’em. He drags a purse around the house all day, calling it a “poo-wus” (which is a fairly apt description if you ask me).

Anyway, I don’t really worry about his affinity for handbags (and tap shoes and ballet dancers and the piano) because, whatever. He’s 2. And even if he was 16, it’d still be fine (though I’m sure we’d have some issues to work through, as he’d probably be the only tenth-grade boy with a purse).

So I was picking up the constant and seemingly self-propagating pile o’ crap from the living room floor when I came across my old poo-wus the wee one had been playing with earlier in the day.

It felt kind of heavy so I unzipped it. Here’s what I found inside:
one toy wrench
one picture of Spiderman
One hair barrette

Clearly, the boy has his priorities straight.

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