he pooted.

a co-worker brought her son to work today. i believe he's around six years old, but i really have no clue. maybe he's 19.

he hung out with ricky bobby and me for awhile. i gave him a piece of paper so he could color.

"i like to draw teeth," he said as he drew some teeth-like images. he said he was drawing a shark. he then began drawing a pirate boat and said, "i love anchors".

somehow we got on the topic of baseball, and ricky bobby asked him what position he plays. "bombs," he said, matter-of-factly.

he went back to drawing the shark and announced, "he pooted". ricky bobby and i cracked up. so he went on. "then he farted. so i kicked him. cut the cheese. farted. cut the cheese. farted."

amazing. we were crying.

a few minutes later he handed ricky bobby one of his pens. ricky bobby said, "gracias!" the little boy said, "i know how to draw grass! and dirt." um... gracias. not grass. oh well.

after about 20 minutes of entertainment, ricky bobby had to go back upstairs to his booth.

the little boy asked me why ricky bobby had to go upstairs. "because he has to do some work," i explained.

the little boy was shocked. "HE WORKS HERE?!" ha.

i hope he comes back to visit soon.