Oh to be a Golden Goose

When Habtamu latches on to something, he's relentless about it. He doesn't have any 'Play it cool' genes. Maybe it's a kid thing, maybe it's a trust issue, but once he zeros in on something, he does not give up. Now, this is great when he focuses on the lawn. But he's been running around with his money in a ziplock bag for about 6 months and recently asked me what I call that thing I carry my money in. I knew once he heard the word 'wallet' I wasn't going to hear the end of it until he had one in his pocket. So that day we ended up at KMart for another errand and we looked at wallets. We found one he liked, the cashier rang it up, and promptly said, "I'm sorry sir, this wallet has been recalled. I can't sell it to you. Maybe the fabric is not flame resistant enough or something." I figured if your wallet caught on fire, you probably had other things to worry about, but I didn't fight it. The only thing worse for H than not getting a wallet, is to THINK he's getting one only to be smacked down in the checkout aisle. I apologized to him and explained what was going on, not that he cared. Walking out of the store without a wallet told him everything he needed to know.

After that he came at it from every angle he could think of, starting directly and working his way toward a very passive aggressive approach.

"Can we go get a wallet for me today?"
"How about now? Can we go now?"
"Can you take me to the Dollar Store?"
"Let's go shopping. I JUST want to look around. Maybe find something for Mommy's birthday."
"What's that thing called again... 'WalMart?' Ohh... 'WalLET' heh. Sounds like 'WalMart.' WalMart is the store, right?"

So about 48 hours later, I find myself wallet shopping again and we spot a pseudo-leather ID holder with a zippered change pocket AND a key ring that he finds acceptable because it's just like Daddy's (more or less.) We get up to the counter and all I can think is, "Please don't be recalled... please don't be flammable... please don't be recalled."

All is good. The wallet barely hit the bottom of the shopping bag before Habtamu scooped it out and asked me if he could tear the tag off. I told him to wait until we got out of the store. So he did. He made it 3 steps outside the sliding doors. We get in the car and Habtamu sets up shop to transfer his stash from the plastic baggie. His two dollar bills weren't a problem, but getting all his change moved over was more of an issue and he ended up spilling a bunch of it in his lap. The next thing I know his whole arm plunges between his knees and after ample digging, he comes up with two coins. Needless to say I found that quite amusing.

"What's so funny?" he asked, still with a big smile on his face from his recent discovery.

"Oh, I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a butt like yours," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"I wish I could pull money out of my butt like you. Then I wouldn't have to work."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'd sit at home, watch tv, and pull money out of my butt all day. It'd be great." That got a laugh.

"Daddy, it was only a dime and a penny."

"That's fine, then I'd just have to do it all day. When I got tired of picking dimes out of my butt, then you could help."

"Daddy! Yuk!"

"Only eleven cents huh? Hmm, maybe you should dig deeper."

"Ha-Ha! Maybe I could find a hundred dollars!"

"Um... I don't think you want to dig THAT deep." That got him rolling.

Nothing is more universally funny than butt humor. Except for possibly boogers.