“I’m the rotten egg!”

The other day, as we were herding the kids upstairs for bedtime, Keith tried to motivate them to move a little bit quicker:

“C’mon, guys!  Last one up the stairs is a rotten egg!”

Giggling and rapid stair climbing ensued, Kaitlyn in particular scrambling to beat everyone to the top.  She reached the landing, turned around and bounced with her arms victoriously thrust in the air like Rocky (if Rocky was a slim, blond, 4-year-old girl) and proudly exclaimed:

I’m the rotten egg!  I’m the rotten egg!

Since then nearly every stair-scramble has ended with a jubilent cry of “I’m the rotten egg!”

It doesn’t help that we crack up (no pun intended) every time.

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