Yesterday Little Brother had a treat: a Happy Meal. He was happy. After he ate the burger, he wanted the toy.
It’s a character from some show called “CatScratch” which my children will never watch as long as I can help it.
Even Big Brother, who is a normal 15-year-old boy with a normal teenage-boy sense of humor, was grossed out by this toy.
It’s a gray plastic cat that makes armpit-fart noises and is posed in armpit-fart position.
I predict the sudden, unexplained disappearance of what Little Brother calls “the Farty Toy.”
If anyone asks, I don’t know where it is or what happened to it. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.