As his whole family patiently waited on biscuits this morning, Chris was in the sunroom, looking at flat-panel TV's on the web. I curled up on the couch across from him and watched Sophie drawing squiggles on a sheet of packing paper on the floor.
Crony Bob wanders in and goes over to his food bowl and starts munching, making me remember that I hadn't fed the dogs when I fed him. I holler to Izzy, "If you want to go with Daddy, you have to feed the dogs first."
Izzy struts in, shoulders hunched forward, and does a Sammy Davis-sort of shuffle with his index fingers pointing to the floor.
"Sorry," he tells me. "Dudes don't do that."
"Is that how dudes walk?" I ask.
He cocks an eyebrow at me and says, "Dudes walk in their Batman shoes," and he points to his Batman tennis shoes. Then he demonstrates, taking a few big steps, then a few really hard stomping steps.
"That's how dudes walk," he says as he walks out of the room. After a few steps he turns back around and says, jabbing his pointed index fingers in my direction, "Yo. Yo yo yo. Yo yo yo yo, yo yo yo yo yo."
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