Tell Me Your Yell

So I was laid out in "the fort" today after a week of mulching, mowing, planting, powerwashing, refinishing the deck and making improvements to the zipline, when my sweet three year old climbed up the 8 foot ladder and stood towering above my head. He looked down at me with a quirky smile and said. "Tell me your yell."
Through my fog of complete exhaustion and fatigued muscles I tried to decide what that meant. Finally I asked him... "Caed, what do you mean by "my yell"?"
Caed braced himself against the fort rails, raised his sweet little chin toward the robin-egg-blue sky and screamed, "GET IN YOUR ROOOOOOOOOOMS!" (Which is what I had told all three of my darlings earlier in the day when they were body slamming each other on the screened porch and broke a doorstop while I was staining the deck and talking long distance on the phone...)
At any rate, I laughed and said, "Why do you want to hear my yell"... and with his impish little grin, with eyes sparkling he said, "Because it's funny, Mommy." With that, he hopped over my limp body and bopped down the slide.
When I summoned enough energy to peel myself off the fort floor to head for the house, I passed by my little boy and leaned down into his ear and whispered, "Tell me your yell." He proceeded to stand on the brick retaining wall and scream, "I HATE THIS PLACE!" giggling the whole time.
That child always knows how to make his momma smile!