I’m sorry. I still have a son. He’s just in the throes of a Lego obsession and spends all of his free time playing quietly in his room.
G was watching me do this:
And said “Wow. You sure are fiwwing up dose cup holders!”
Then this morning she woke up screaming.
She was sobbing “I want a (gra)’nowa baaaaaaar!”
at 6:30 a.m.
Sometimes I’m not sure about this one.
On Sunday morning I was sitting across the room from her.
She came over to hand me her garbage.
I said “Go put it on the counter. I am not a garbage can.”
How did she proceed?
She threw it down into my lap, ran across the room, turned back to face me and said “You a DARBAGE TAN!”.
Then she grinned.
There’s no denying it now, oh tiny instrument of occasional evil.
your band aid is staring at you.
They both genuflect now!
(Taking this photo was probably totally inappropriate. But….cuteness!)
I didn’t get a picture of G doing it. It gets bonus cute points because she usually faces the wrong way and shows respect to the back doors.
Yesterday she very adorably stood on the kneeler as we were all on our knees. She folded her little hands and bowed her head devoutly.
Then, periodically, she would turn to me and stage whisper “SAY JESUS!”.
So close, and yet so far…
I love them.
My son is not as confused as I thought!
Payne has been pronouncing the word “forget” as “ree-get” for, well, forever.
We’d have conversations that went something like:
Payne: “We can’t reget the umbrella!”
Me: “FORGet. It’s forget, son. Say FOR”
Me: (slams forehead into steering wheel in frustration)
So this week, he told me “Mommy, we have to remember my snacks. We can’t reget!”
“Something is brewing”
“Forget is the opposite of REmember”
“Ree-member is the opposite of Ree-get”
Now why did it take me three years of “reget” to figure that out?
There’s a pun here dying to exit my brain involving the words “regret”, “reget” and “forget”. Unfortunately, as has been displayed in this post, if we wait for it to work its way out I may go three years between blog entries.
– On Monday G went to the grocery store with my Dad. An employee approached them to ask if they needed help find anything. G piped up with “No. We’re just wooking!”.
– I flipped the visor down in my car last night and opened the mirror. From the backseat a tiny female voice announced “You wook dood.” (good).
-She crawled into bed with us this morning and saw a log shaped bump under the covers. She said “Dat’s Stewwa. Hi Stewwa!” And patted it affectionately.
Yeah. It was Dan’s leg.