Where are you?
In the bedroom.
What are you doing?
Can I see you?
No, I’m in the bedroom.
No, I mean, can you come out of the bedroom so I can see you?
It’s too dangerous.
Why is it too dangerous?
You’ll spank my bottom.*
I went to the bedroom and found him completely naked except for the soccer shoes he was trying to lace up. Not what you would call a spank worthy transgression except that he knows that it drives me crazy when he takes off his clothes and walks around naked (which happens multiple times a day).
*For the record: I rarely spank his bottom.
My sister’s dogs had four puppies. Matt and I had three boys. It was bound to happen.
We went two days trying out different names (she came with Lola but we decided we wanted the fun of naming her ourselves). MTN2 was stuck on Cheerio for awhile (I still can’t figure that one out), Scout was popular for a couple of hours but we finally settled on Lemon.
Sara turned 35 on the 24th. The boys helped their aunt make her a special birthday breakfast for her. She was so happy with it she allowed herself to be photographed in her pajamas.
MTN2, “Mom, when was the first war?”
SJZ, “I dunno. I suppose when Cain slew Abel.”
MTN2, “How did you know Cain’s middle name?
OMN heard me humming along to an iPod and asked, “Dad, is that the song that made you and Mom fall in love?”
HEN is playing with Scrabble pieces, arranging them onto the tile racks. Suddenly, he stands up, raises his arms in victory and declares, “Now I know my ABC’s! Now I know my ABC’s!”
If you’ve had email for at least a few years, no doubt you’ve received the spam email that shows us how our brains can interpret words even when they’re jumbled, for example:
Arocdnicg to rsceearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer are in the rghit pcale. The rset can be a toatl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit pobelrm. Tihs is buseace the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.
That’s pretty much how I feel when I listen to HEN speaking. If I repeat what he says enough times, I figure it out and then I’ll try and help him pronounce some of the words the right way.
So yesterday, I took his brand new Lightning McQueen shoes that he wanted to wear in the sprinklers, and I put them on top of the piano. He calls them “racers” instead of “shoes.” This morning, he comes over to show me that he has retrieved them from that spot.
He says, with most of the translation provided, “I took my new racers off the -ano.”
I said, “Oh, you took your racers off the piano.”
He said, “No, the ano.”
I said, “No, it’s P-ano.”
He said, again with translation provided, “Ooooo, that’s disgusting.”