Carson picked up a new word this week: disgusting.

Not that it's a bad word (he’s picked up a few of those lately too), but it has opened my eyes to my future… boys. We spent yesterday chasing a crazy little eyeball toy around the yard, throwing it at each other and screaming like it was real. “AAAHHHH, that’s disgusting!”  

Driving home Scott asked Carson to name all the things he could think of that are disgusting. The joke was really on me… he knew what was coming, I did not:

Carson: “Boogers are disgusting!”

Dad: “Nolan’s diapers are disgusting!”

Mom: “Daddy’s feet are disgusting!”

Carson: “That tree…!”

Mom: “Trees aren’t disgusting…?”

Carson: “…with poop on it!" HAH, Hah, Ha, ha.

Mom: “Oh, well, yes.”

Carson: “That car… with poop on it!”

Mom cringes as she sees a pattern forming…

Carson: “That grass… with poop on it!”

Daddy: Now trying to drive while rolling on the floorboard with laughter and gasping for air. “Welcome to the mind of a three-year-old boy!”

Carson spends the rest of the car ride (a good 15 minutes) pointing out EVERYTHING he sees and laughing hysterically at the thought of that object with poop on it.

Dad spends the rest of the car ride in a jovial mood apparently remembering his own child-hood days.

Nolan spends the rest of the trip laughing because Carson is laughing.

Mom spends the rest of the car ride contemplating the absurdity of Oregon’s Open Container law applying to the passenger in a car…