We're so proud

My five year old (seen here when he was 3) was delightful all weekend. Really, just a joy. We had so much fun at ZooBoo, and after a great dinner, the boy voluntarily cleaned up a mess he didn't even make. So I spent extra time with him before bed, reading and talking and just enjoying his company. Just before I was ready to tuck him in, he went to the kitchen for a drink and inexplicably stopped into the downstairs bathroom-in-permanent-progress, which he usually avoids. I heard a loud thump and then a scream, and I rushed into the bathroom to find him sobbing on the floor, clutching his knees, pants around his ankles. It's so hard to comfort someone while weeping with laughter, but I did my best. I did suggest, with as straight a face as possible, that in future he pull the pants up before walking away from the toilet, and I praised him for scaring whatever vermin have been living in the basement entirely off the premises with his crash.

No, you can't have him. He's all ours.