In the car this morning, the boys were at their usual antics fighting over individual space, breathing air and who can be the loudest. I heard shuffling behind me where Jackson sits, and then Jeremy screams -
“DON’T TOUCH MY DIARRHEA!”
“What?!?!,” I spin around (while driving) to see what exactly Jackson grabbed while wiggling around his booster seat.
Jeremy fiercely points his finger at Jackson and says, “Mom, he has my diarrhea! Make him give it back!”
“Your what?” I ask, seeing no evidence of anything that required me to pull over the car.
“My diarrhea! The fing I got from VBS!”
We finally reach a stoplight so I turn around to see what in the world Jackson has grabbed. It was a tiny blue spiral notebook.
“What are you calling that?” I ask in total confusion.
“It’s my diarrhea, like what Tom Riddle had,” he says.
“Jeremy,” I snicker. “It’s called a diary.”