O.: "Mom, how is it possible for something to go on forever?"
"I think I know why there is nothing outside of outer space. Because what would it be? There's just space."
"Or maybe there's an area on the other side that's full of suitcases. It's called outer scace."
O. to N., who dreams of getting married so she can wear a beautiful dress and dance all day.: "No, N. I'm not allowed to marry you, because you're not allowed to marry your family."
N., looking at a photo of J. and I at our wedding:
"Why wasn't I at your marry? I wanted to be there! Was I in your tummy? Was O. there? Why did he get to be borned afore me???" (Just to be clear, O. was not there.)
After a discussion of wedding vows (my attempt to convince N. that weddings are about more than the dress and the dancing):
O: "I'm going to ask the girl that I marry to do all the cooking so I don't have to."
O, riding his bike on a brief hint of spring day:
"My bell sounds like a sick duck."
O., wielding the pooper-scooper in the front yard:
"I am a giant poop eating monster!"
O., with a mischievous laugh after I tell him to stop picking his nose.
"But Mom, I always have a snack with me!"
N., seeing Jennifer Lopez on a taped episode of American Idol:
"Mommy, that girl is beautiful. She is wearing jewels."
N. to me on our way out the door to preschool. I am carrying my purse, a bag of library books, and L. in his car seat.
"Mommy, you carry my backpack, because you're the strongest in the world."
(I have to admit to a strong sense of pride at this title)
O., pulling my leg:
"Just kitten, Mom."
N. talks me into buying a striped knit dress, marked down to three dollars at Kohl's and then insists I must try it on the moment we get home. I put in on over my sweater and jeans.
O.: "You look like a house cleaner."
N., wearing her baby doll in her own front pack, attempts to entertain L. in his play yard while I make breakfast. He keeps crying.
N. "I have nuffing more to do for you, L.! Mommy, I can only take care of one baby!"