Sir T On His Throne

After church, Timothy and I implemented our "man plan" for the afternoon. Momma always gets a bit worried when it is just the two of us. Not sure why.

Our task was two-fold: get Timothy a hair cut and purchase a new toilet for our bathroom. A rather unlikely combination, but all the makings of an afternoon adventure.

Timothy said hello to his "stylist" and quickly raided the lollipop basket. He seemed content, so I kept feeding him sugar on a stick while his stylist chopped away. Unfortunately, the falling hair and the sticky mouth quickly got together . . . and Timothy eventually walked out with a clean crew cut and a scraggly goatee.

Donning his cherry-flavored facial hair, we made our way to Home Depot to make the all-important toilet selection for Timothy's (and his sister's) bathroom being remodelled this week. Choosing a "porcelain god" provided an opportunity to praise the One, True God, as I actually stopped in the toilet aisle and had a moment of worship. You see, while Timothy delighted in running up and down the aisle as fast as he could, I paused to be reminded this was the same little boy who doctors said might not be able to walk. Thank you, Father.

As I wrestled "Timmy's Potty" (as it was affectionately named by my son) onto the oversized cart, Timothy simultaneously mounted his throne.

Pulling a new sucker from his pocket (it seems he grabbed a few for the road), he squealed "Choo Choo" at the top of his lungs. Apparently, that was my cue to begin moving, as he was now playing the role of train conductor eating a Dum-Dum.

So there I was, carting my fruit-scented, sucker-sucking, fuzzy son riding atop his new potty as he pumped his fist in order to sound his imaginary train whistle.

Someone once said, "Boys are noise covered in dirt." I could not agree more.

Unfortunately, Timothy's train got derailed. Seeing someone I knew from church on aisle 7, I stopped on a dime to say hello. Timothy, on the other hand, kept moving. A rather ungraceful dethroning.

Not to worry. No tears fell. The lollipop stayed in the mouth. Just a bit more dirt added to the jeans.

All part of one afternoon adventure . . .