So Charles says to Iain, "Get your mom to wash your neck ruffles, son. They're filthy."
And I FALL OUT. I'm just giggling uncontrollably, repeating: "Neck ruffles!! Neck Ruffles!!"
Charles caught the bug and started tittering, snickering, snorting, and guffawing.
Iain looked at both of us like we were nuts.
2 comments:
I hear cross-gartered stockings are all the rage for boys now, and they go so well with neck ruffles. He could wear them to go see the bear baiting.
Dude: his neck ruffles are made of fat. And there are many of them.
Rolls of fattiness all folded over one another. And they get kinda...moist.
He's just started really holding his head *up* for real, that helps us to wash under there. But he doesn't like it, so he tucks his chin down in the bath. It's hard to deal with an entity that has a mind of its own.
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