So, if you read yesterday's post you'll have discovered (in the midst of my whining about my injuries etc.) that Winton calls the big bed a "couch" and pronounces "couch" "doubt." Following? Good.
So, this morning I had girl child in the bathroom so she could pee before school and boy child ecstatically playing on the "doubt."
Playing until I came back into the bedroom in time to see him slide off the "doubt" backwards and land on the top of his head.
No more doubt. There can be no more playing on doubts or we will all surely die, or at the very least maim ourselves. (Winton is, again, miraculously unharmed.)
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