"Dude we might sell you"

So yesterday was mine and the Jersey Mama's birthday and I put together 33 things I love about her (my age, not hers. It's all about respect, people). But I got up this morning and the Stunt Baby had made himself some eggs. Meaning he'd gotten up at some point in the middle of the night while Stomp and I blissfully slept and broken all the eggs on the carpet. Then, while I was getting him ready for a bath, I went to grab the shampoo off the counter (where we have to keep it so he doesn't "shampoo us" while we're peeing) and he grabbed all my socks out of the "clean basket", threw them in the toilet and stirred them up with a back scratcher. As I stood there, thinking, in a Boston-accent, "what the FAHK?!", my head starting to spin Linda-Blair-Exorcist-Style, Nathan glared at his brother, glared at the toilet, glared back at his brother, and said, "Dude. We might sell you."