A whirligig that apparently is a witch's broom-or so I am told if I understand "itch boom" properly.
Every morning, he is filthy. Every afternoon he is too. Every evening, I can barely recognize him. Moments after a bath, the shadows of grime attach themselves to him again. This boy is a dirt magnet, and this home is quite conducive to it right now. It doesn't stop my incessant hugs and kisses though.