Last night T announced, “Iguanas keep food in their tails!” Z said, “That’s right.” I quietly asked Z if that was true, because I’m no Iguana expert, but it sounded ridiculous. Z said, “Of course it’s not true.” He told me T watched an episode of Go Diego Go in which there was a Strawberry Festival and the gang had to transport strawberry seeds so the Iguana ate them and pooped them out in the fields. Me, “Wow. I don’t even know….just wow. That happened on a Diego episode?” Z, “Yup.” And now T thinks Iguanas store food in their tales?” Z, “Yup.” Me, “That is awesome. That is fucking amazing. That is the best thing I’ve heard today.” And then, because Z loves me, he found a clip of it on youtube. The audio is awful, but behold:
I wept as I watched it, which isn’t unusual these days. But for once they were happy tears. I didn’t understand why Z wasn’t enjoying it as much as I was. Did he not hear the Iguana inform Diego that she was about to shit herself? Did he not watch her take said shit all over the strawberry field? He shrugged and said poop didn’t rule his life the way it rules mine, so the fascination isn’t there for him. I kind of feel bad for him. Because that, my friends, is comedy gold.
I swear that T looked like this 5 minutes ago. Hell, I swear that C was this size yesterday.
And now he’s a big kid. Wearing a pink hat that someone left at our house and learning that Iguanas store food in their tales. Yeah, we are never going to correct him on that one.