quack

Earlier tonight, I gave Wesley a bath and then he wrapped up in a hooded towel that is supposed to make the kid look like a butterfly.

Wesley: Quack!

Me: Are you a butterfly quacking?

Wesley: No, I’m a duck! A duck wrapped in a towel.

Me: Oh, I see.

Wesley: Quack, quack. Look at my butterfly towel. Quack, quack, quack. I want some bacon. Quack, quack, quack.

Mary: Why would a duck want bacon?

Wesley: Because he’s really me in a butterfly towel. Quack, quack.

The more articulate he gets, the weirder I realize he is.

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