Ready to leave the house, I say...'River, let's go change your shirt, the one you have on is really dirty.'
'Gno not,' argues the little dirty two-year-old.
I successfully get him indoors, wash his face and hands, and convince him that his moon shirt is totally worth trading for the dirty striped shirt he currently dons.
He gets his cool 'moom' shirt on and is instantly amazed at the glowing letters scrawled across the front. We head upstairs to find shoes, me ahead of the little twerp who lumbers agonizingly slow up the steps. I reach the top, turn the corner, and immediately hear *thunk* followed by wailing. As I turn to investigate the cause of the crying, I notice that River has run into the wall because he is so distracted by the words 'shoot for the moon' across his glowing chest.
That's funny, but even as he lay on the floor oh-so-dramatically, he was holding his head and still staring at his tee. It's going to be a long and funny day.
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