crazy joe

One of my favourite things about A. is the random stuff he brings home with him. Some days it’s flowers (heart!). Some days it’s Vogue magazine (double heart!). Some days it’s herb and garlic ‘Bagel Os’ (?). And some days it’s stuffed dogs the size of a large toddler (???).

“Crazy Joe” is a giant stuffed dog that A. rescued from Loblaw’s. He was a steal at $5, apparently. Budsie likes Crazy Joe and so do I. I particularly enjoy hearing A. tell Budsie about Crazy Joe’s sketchy past:

A.: “Hey Mr. Poopyman [A.’s name for our son], meet Crazy Joe! He’s crazy ’cause he was just rescued from life on the streets.”

The Budsie: “dadadadaMAMAMAyaya.” *drool*

A.: “That’s right. Ol’ Crazy Joe sure faced some tough times out on the streets! He was educated in the school of hard knocks, boy.”

The Budsie: “nyyyyyAAAAYAYAYA! mmmmnanana.” *burp* “Pffffffft.”

A.: “I know! And man, does he have some stories. Out on the streets, Crazy Joe used to be the right-hand man to a big German Shepard named Fang. Fang was in charge of a tough street gang of dogs. Crazy Joe helped him carry out his crazy deeds. Out on the streets!”

The Budsie: *Finds piece of leftover French toast in his sleeve. Reacts as though he has found gold. Stares at Daddy* “buhbuhbuhBABABABAyayaya.”

And so on. I really love the weekends.

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