Little Man had to "go to the bathroom" during dinner.
Which is code for, "I don't want to eat this shit you pulled together that manages to involve all of the food groups, but is not at all what a 3 year wants to eat."
Ungrateful little fucker.
So I listen to Little Man goof off in the bathroom (including falling off the toilet for a second time). Finally I go in and he's standing there, picking his nose. Fantastic.
Dude, get out of the bathroom.
"NOOOOO...I have to go potty Mumma!"
A bit later he wanders out, pants in hand and insists I help put his pants on.
Put your pants on son.
He finally gets his pants on and asks me to button them (understandable in those pants, they are snug in the waist). I start to button and don't feel those Wall-E underpants he had on earlier.
"Dude, where are your underwear?"
"Dunno. Maybe the kitchen floor?"
"Go get your underpants kid."
He comes back with his underpants, pulls off his jeans and promptly gets distracted by a book. So now he's sitting sans any pants, reading a book on my living room carpet.
Let's just hope he wiped well when he was done, shall we?