Bluebird of Testosterone, twofer edition

For those of you who are new to le blog, welcome! From time to time I post about visits from the Bluebird of Testosterone. This weekend was a bonanza -- what I can remember of it.

The Boy, after getting dressed to go to church: "I look good. But my leg hurts."

TwoBoo (who is toilet-training), after I went to the bathroom: "Good job, Mommy!"

Should get even better as TwoBoo's vocabulary grows...

Christmas BOT

We walked over to our neighbor's house for Christmas dinner last night, and it was a wonderful antidote to my cabin fever. Food and friends were great, and TwoBoo settled down after being cranky most of the day. The Boy was mostly bored, of course, being the second-youngest guest. But then he got three M&M's, made friends with the neighbor's dog, and ran around like mad with The Husband for about 15 minutes. So he was happy.

As we got ready to leave, the Bluebird of Testosterone made a quick visit. Check out the exchange between The Husband and The Boy while zipping up The Boy's jacket:

The Husband - Do you need help?
The Boy - No thank you, I can handle anything.

The Bluebird of Testosterone

The Boy has begun making the occasional comment that seems to indicate the presence of a completely testosterone-driven portion of the brain.

It started one day when we were driving to the mall, and The Boy said he saw a bird where none could have been. About as elusive as the bluebird of happiness. The Husband went along with The Boy's story, saying it was a bird only guys could see; therefore, it must be the Bluebird of Testosterone.

Today I was buckling The Boy into his car seat, but I couldn't get it to click closed at first. I realized what was wrong, and said, "Oh, your shirt was in the way."

The Boy's response: "And my penis was in the way too."

Uh-huh.