Yesterday, I heard him singing in the living room "I got boobs, I got boobs...." I couldn't imagine what on earth would prompt such a song. Then I saw. Then, I grabbed the camera and started singing, too.
For the last two days, he's decided that his bed (freshly laundered linens and all) is a toilet. I don't understand the logic that makes jumping in his own poop a fun thing to do, but he does, and apparently it's hilarious.