Overheard in our humble abode, just this weekend…
“Achoo!!! Bless you! You’ve got the humps!”
“Oh, poor darlin’, you’ve got the humps. It’s OK.”
Apparently Caitlin’s stuffed toy yellow lab and pastel kitty have a mysterious affliction prevalant among stuffed animals and known, quite simply, as “THE HUMPS.”
We were eating dinner while the humps diagnosis was made from the den, quite loudly I might add, and I’m just glad I didn’t choke on my steak or blow red wine out my nostrils.
This is one of those instances where I hope Caitlin doesn’t go to daycare and proclaim, “We’ve got the humps at our house!,” when her teachers ask her how her weekend was. Although it’s definitely not as bad as “doctor’s shit.”