B: Uh oh, Mom. I have bad news. Some of my pee wanted to get out of the toilet.
A: That's okay. Just wipe it up.
Um, Mom? Some of the pee got on my britches.
A: Then change them. No big deal.
B: Okay! It's just that the pee wanted to escape the toilet, so it went on my britches.
A: I think you need to quit giving the pee "desires" and work on aiming better.
B: I don't like it when my zits are popped because mine tend to bleed. Yours don't tend to bleed, do they?
A: Uh, it depends. I don't pop your zits.
B: Yeah, not anymore. Because they tend to bleed.
A: You tend to crack me up.
(after running in circles to get dizzy, then laying down)
B: Whoa. It feels like I'm moving. Like the earth is moving.
A: I bet!
B: It's like God carried me. Without a house.
B: Mom, when I went sledding with the Clark's and rode on their soft sled alone, all by myself, I was like "aah! aah! WHOOOOOOOOOOOA!" I was afraid. I got a little freaked out.
B: Mom, when I am at Auntie Reese's tonight, I will play with my cousins so they won't fight. But I'm not the authority over them to tell them what to do. I'm the authority to play with them so they won't fight. Auntie Reese is the authority over them to tell them what to do. I'm not the authority over her either. I won't boss anyone around when I am there.
(based my typical question of "who put a quarter in you?" which I had not asked yet this day)
B: Mom, Dad put one thousand dollar bills into me, and one thousand monies.
A: You mean quarters?
B: Yeah, quarters too. We'd better spank him for that. Dad is SO naughty!
B: Mom, I like the smell of you.
A: Why thank you!
B: (sniffs deeply) It smells beautiful. And a little weird. I'm sorry that it smells a little weird. I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings.
A: Oh, I'll be okay.
B: (sniffs deeply) Do you like the beautiful smell of you?
B: Mom, do they have a big house?
A: I think it's a nice size, yes.
B: (excitedly) Maybe it's big enough so that they have guest rooms!
B: And it's probably so big that they have a pet!
(I think he's starting to feel the pinch of our condo... or possibly just internalizing MY thoughts about our condo)
In January and February, a friend and I swapped childcare so that each of us could work. It was a great arrangement that Blake especially loved, because Moira's dad is one of big Blake's old friends, and he has cool things like light sabers, a snow mobile, and a playful heart. Blake also really really loves Moira - he is so gentle with her and went from being annoyed when she cried ("Can you please make that baby stop crying?") to concerned and comforting. But for the life of him, he canNOT say her name correctly: Moira Chloe, pronounced "moy-RA kloh"
B: Mom, I love Moria Chloe.
A: I'm so glad! And try this: MOY-RA.
B: Moria. It's just how I say it. I like the way I say it better.
(after wearing a muscle shirt under his long-sleeved shirt for his first day back to preschool - in order to show his teachers his strong muscles)
B: Ryan at my school told me that he has a big muscle, but I have more than him. Mine are bigger. He just has one muscle, but I have five... or six... or seven.
A: Oh, really?
B: Well, I definitely have five.