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Archive for the ‘The Funny Things He Says’ Category

L demonstrated his lack of a firm grasp on numbers when he explained how he’ll always be older than S:

L: She’s only 2. I’m 4 now but soon I’ll be 5:30.

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Grandma recently took L to visit his great-uncle in a nursing home. It was time for weekly services, and L seemed puzzled by the congregation’s prayers:

L: What are they doing?

Grandma: They’re praying.

L: [Looks totally bewildered]

Grandma: L, do you know what praying is?

L: Yes, lions prey and jaguars prey….

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How boys play:

L: Here, S, take this magic wand.

S: ‘tay.

L: And this one is mine.

S: ‘tay.

L: And now… FIGHT TO THE DEATH!

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New mantra that I will share with L when he has a 4-year-old son (assuming we both live to see the day, and that my mantra is true enough for some woman to have kids with him):

He does not have a permanent personality disorder; he’s just 4. He does not have a permanent personality disorder; he’s just 4….

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I’ve mentioned that L has a fresh mouth. Sometimes his attitude is slightly more subtle than calling me names. Here are a few conversations from yesterday and this morning that have me laughing and pulling my hair out.

 

L was given a container of cotton candy yesterday. In the car ride home, at 4PM, we had this conversation:

L: Can I please, please, PUH-LEEZE have some cotton candy when we get home?

me: No. I don’t think it’s the greatest idea to eat cotton candy right before dinner.

L: Just a little? Please? Just some?

me: Sorry, Honey. I still don’t think it’s a good idea right before dinner.

L: Why don’t you just think about it some more and then answer me.

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Conversation this morning after he took a book of Spiderman temporary tattoos and ruined them all by soaking them in the sink:

me: Why would you do that? You ruined them all! That was a nice thing I bought for you. It cost money. I’m not buying you tattoos again.

L: Don’t worry about it. You’ll forget about this really soon and buy me tattoos again.

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Conversation at 9:15 this morning:

L: Mommy, are you still mad at us?

me: I’m annoyed. I’m really annoyed because you two have been annoying me all day. [Not my finest parenting moment.]

L: No we haven’t. It hasn’t even been all day yet.

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Now my question is whether to publish this now, or wait the rest of the day to collect more smart-assery?
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Lots of little things happen that aren’t quite enough for a blog post. So, I’m trying something new – a post full of bite sized WTF moments. It’s like WTF tapas.

I am at odds with myself. My Risk Adverse Nature vs My Lazy Nature duke it out every time I have to cross the toy-strewn basement playroom carrying a heap of laundry that I cannot see over. Risk breaking my neck? Or stop and pick up toys?

Turns out I’m a risk taker after all!

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Conversation with L in the car:

L: What is the thing doing to the orf?

me: What??

L: The orf. What is the thing with the orf?

me: Are you saying ‘orf’? I don’t know that word.

L: ORF! The orf in the sky.

me: Where did you learn the word?

L: I just know it. Orf. The orf in the sky. Up in the sky. The orf.

me: The sun? It’s an orb. Do you mean orb?

L: No. The orf!

me: I don’t know what an orf is. Please explain it another way.

L: The orf you stand on.

Any guesses? At this point I figured it out. L was asking about the Earth and recycling. 

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I go to the Dunkin’ Donuts drive thru for coffee about once a week on average. Sometimes it’s closer to daily. Anyway, every time I order my coffee L yells from the backseat, “And some donuts for me!” This never works. I explained to him that they only listen to grown ups, and not little kids. Now each time I go through the drive thru, L puts on his best, deepest, most serious grown up voice – which sounds like Louis Armstrong on helium – and shouts “And some donuts for me!” So far, this still is not working for him.

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This morning I awoke to the cutest sound over the monitor from S’s room. L had joined her in her crib along with an armful of books, and was “reading” Brown Bear, Brown Bear to her. This is the stuff I love about having two kids. It’s a nice balance to all the annoying stuff they fight over. (Which is everything.)

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It’s been awhile since I’ve posted some of my conversations with L. Here are few little snippets from the last week or so.

There has been a lot of talk in my house about what S can and can’t say. I guess this got L thinking about what he can and can’t pronounce correctly, because out of the blue he said this:

“I can say everyting [sic]. The only ting I can’t say is ‘super-someting-someting-docious.’ That is the only ting I can’t say.”

Yesterday evening we went for a walk to a little lake down the street for a picnic dinner. While we were eating, a couple of teenage girls, probably about 15-years-old, came biking by. Upon spotting them approaching, L jumped up from his seat and stood on the road to intercept them with this line:

“Hi, Girls. Are you two babysitters?” (He fully had the stance and intonation of a guy asking a girl if  she comes here often.)

We were talking about growing up and getting bigger. After a small silence we had this conversation:

L: “I’m getting older and bigger, right?”

me: “Right.”

L: “Are you getting older or bigger?”

me: “Just older. I’m all done growing.”

L: “You’re not growing any taller, just fatter, right?”

me: “No more talking.”

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T read yesterday’s post and knew immediately what the blue stuff is. Any guesses?

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No?

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Are you sure you want to know?

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OK, here it is. Mystery solved: the blue stuff refers to the blue part of a flame. T and L were talking about camping and fires and s’mores and L fixated on the fact that parts of a fire are blue. Anyway, he was absolutely right about it: one should never touch it. It’s very, very hot.

So, now we can all rest easy. Our houses won’t be condemned. No need to worry about the cat’s fur. (Actually, this blue stuff would be very bad for a cat.)

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Conversation I just had with L in the car:

L: The blue ‘tuff is hot. Very hot. Never touch the blue ‘tuff.
me: What blue stuff?
L: What? When we go camping. I’m going to bring all my snugglies.
me: OK. What blue stuff?
L: What blue ‘tuff?
me: What you said. The blue stuff is hot. What blue stuff?
L: It’s hot? What blue ‘tuff?
me: The blue stuff you were talking about. The hot blue stuff not to touch.
L: If it’s hot and you touch it you’ll get burned.
me: That’s true. But what’s the blue stuff?
L: What blue ‘tuff?
me: OK, nevermind. Don’t touch hot things.
L: Is the blue ‘tuff hot, Mommy?

Maddening, isn’t it? Abbot and Costello must have had a 4-year-old.

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L is learning some tricks from his Dad. After years of successfully telling L to “look over there!” while stealing a french fry off his plate, T has finally passed on his superior sense of tomfoolery.

Yesterday, during a rousing game of Monkey in the Middle, L used the line “Look! A moose!” several times in his attempts to outplay us. This was cute, but made awesome by the fact that about 20 minutes after coming back inside, T said “Look! A moose!” at an actual moose that was crossing our lawn. (Next time we’re outside and L tells me to look for a moose, I might just look for a moose. That thing was HUGE and I’d have to somehow rescue my babies.)

This morning for some reason L wants to trick me into thinking there’s a mouse running around the house. I’m hoping that he isn’t having another animal premonition. The funny thing this time is that he’s impersonating the mouse. He still drops his S’s off the beginning of words so his mouse imitation isn’t exactly convincing:

‘Queak, ‘queak! Mommy, there’s a mouse!

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