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My son has a fascination with buttons. Not clothing buttons -- no, actual buttons that DO things. Like reset the clock on the microwave. Or open my car doors from inside the house. Or try to order porn. (Luckily, I caught that one in time before he could hit "okay" on the remote and watch Space Alien Hotties v. 31.)
In order to channel this button loving fanaticism (and partly for the photo op), I set up a video game and gave Boyo the controller.
I'll be damned if he didn't beat Daddy's top score in 10 minutes.
My son has a fascination with buttons. Not clothing buttons -- no, actual buttons that DO things. Like reset the clock on the microwave. Or open my car doors from inside the house. Or try to order porn. (Luckily, I caught that one in time before he could hit "okay" on the remote and watch Space Alien Hotties v. 31.)
In order to channel this button loving fanaticism (and partly for the photo op), I set up a video game and gave Boyo the controller.
I'll be damned if he didn't beat Daddy's top score in 10 minutes.
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