I'd love to come up with some sort of witty, well thought out introduction to what follows. But mostly it's just a collection of great stuff overheard and observed around here lately that I don't want my hormone-addled mind to misplace forever.
While watching an episode of Discovery's Life focused on plants, specifically the Venus Flytrap.
O: I wouldn't want to get trapped in one of those, would you?
N: No. I no want to get stuck in there!
Me: Don't worry, those are little. You couldn't get stuck in there.
N: But I little!
Me: Not that little, sweetie pea.
O: Mom, do you think that's God talking on there? (this would be in reference to series narrator Oprah Winfrey)
N., pretending to tuck her stuffed ponies into bed. "Here you comfy blankie. It so soft and comfy. Sweet dreams."
N. snuggling into my neck: "Oh Mommy, Mommy. You my best Mommy."
N., after seeing me bump into something: "You hall right, Mommy?"
N. at her cousin's first communion: "I want a drink, too! I want some of that bread and wine!"
O., dictating a letter he wants me to write in the church bulletin (after checking that it's okay to write on such a thing):
Dear Jesus: On Christmas Eve, you were born. Love, O.
O., after spilling the entire crayon container on the kitchen floor,
"Is this a dream? Because I really need this to be a dream."
N. is crying because she has bumped her head on the table again. I tell her "I'm sorry, sweet girl. Are you okay?"
N: "You not do'ed it! I did it!"
O., doing a triumphant dance in the driveway: "I am the superhero of the world! With integrity!"
On our way to Target to spend some of O's birthday money:
O: "N., don't worry. I have lots of money. I'll buy you whatever you want."
Me: Well, O., you only have twenty dollars. You don't necessarily have enough to buy her whatever she wants."
O: Okay, N., you can pick something from the dollar section."
In the car:
N: "O., my boo boo hurts."
O: "It's just a mosquito bite. You can put cream on it later."
N: "Oh, tanks, O."
O: "Mosquitoes are everywhere all around. Like all bugs are everywhere. They are so small. And mosquitoes drink your blood."
N: "O., this sticker is princesses."
O: "I don't like princesses. Some things about us are different. Some things are the same."
N: "O. look! That dood place for horses."
O.: "There are no horses there. That's a house."
N.: "I see a eagle."
O: "That's not an eagle. It's a hawk."
N: "Mommy, can I have fwidewade?"
O: "Mom, she wants Gatorade. How come I can understand her and you can't?"
O: "It's a good thing I grew an inch, so I can be five now. Am I really bigger?"
Is anyone else's child inordinately attached to their Easter eggs? I keep forgetting to throw ours out when O isn't around, and have visions of us having a Templeton Rat rotten egg moment. The week after Easter, when I tried to make egg salad out of them, O. had a full-on meltdown, declaring he wanted to keep his forever. Last week, he played with some of them for a while, peeling shells off of them and grinding them in the garbage disposal. But he wouldn't part with his rainbow egg. Yesterday, I finally talked him into taking a picture of it, and was allowed to trash it.
Want to see what your house could look too, if only your husband were gone on business for most of a week? It's not normally this bad, even when J. is traveling. But O. decided it was a good idea to transfer the entire contents of our game/toy closet in the basement to the family room. That's a sampling. You can't even see the scattered pieces of Candy Land, Checkers and Elefun in this shot.