Exceptional Acts of a Three Year Old

I spent a lovely day with my eldest sister and her two cute little sons. Little Man, who is now three, was anxious to see my house. He had questioned me extensively the other day regarding what kind of toys I had, how many, if any of them were trucks, and if I had any of Lightening and his friends. Also if I had boys and girls at my house. I do not, by the way.

When he arrived at my abode, his three year old toy radar went up and he quickly located pretty much every toy in my apartment within five minutes. As he left, his mother told him to pick up his toys.

The fruits of his labors:

Because, you see, as everyone knows, toys go in the baskets. That's what Little Man has at home, so when he picks up toys they all go in the baskets. I happened to have a basket I brought home from the office with all my little knick knacks in it, which he apparently has declared my toy basket. I'm not certain Fozzy is comfortable with this new arrangment.