Friday, December 30, 2011

Loud Mouths Are Relative

We're sitting in the drive through at Caribou, and a freight train comes up on the tracks behind us and blows the warning blast on its horn (whistle?).  I had my window rolled down, and it was LOUD.  The boys were suitably in awe.  Then this conversation takes place:

N:  "Whoooooaaaa.  That was a super long train!"
Me:  "It sure was!"
N:  "And Ab, it was REEEAAAALLLY LOUD!"
Me  "Yes.  Did it hurt your ears?"
N:  "It was even louder than my mouth!!"

I know that he really meant that it was louder than he could make the train sound with his mouth, but (I love this kid, so this is not an insult, only an observation) he has a VERY loud mouth in every way possible, which makes his statement SO funny.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

About Robots & Superheroes

As anyone who knows J knows, robots and superheroes are pretty much what life is all about.  Or what it should be all about when life is going according to plan.  So much of our daily conversation revolves around them.  In case you were wondering, it is required that robots wear one of the following on their hands:  socks, mittens, or large shoes.  If none of the above are available, a glass on your hand will work as a robot gun.  Superheroes wear blanket capes.  And it is sometimes possible to be a ROBOT superhero if you combine costumes.

J (on overhearing me telling my husband that his cousin was now wearing socks on her hands just like J):  "Oh!  Dolly is a robot now, too?"


J:  "It not fair that JT a robot.  I needa put mine socks on mine hands TOO!"

J:  "I a NUDE superhero robot."
Me:  "Nude?  Really?  Why are you wearing clothes then?"
J: "Don't know.  Cause I naughty and NUDE."
Me: "Oh.  You mean rude?"
J: "Yeah.  Sorry I be naughty."

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Oh, J...

After spilling his orange juice all over the kitchen and being sent to his room to wait while I cleaned it up (because otherwise he thinks he should splash in the puddles and create more mess), J came out of his room with wet hair and smelling suspiciously like spray air freshener.  Obviously he made a detour into the bathroom on his way...This was our conversation:

Me:  "J, why are you so stinky?...And WHAT in the world do you have in your hair?"
J:  "Water...and bug spray.  My hair was sticky.  *rubs his head*  Uh oh...MOM!  My hair still yucky.  Take it off!"  Commence screaming fit.

And now he's taking a bath, while I move the air freshener spray even higher up, because obviously turning three has led to him re-entering his digging stage and currently being in the same room with his stinky head gives me a headache.  :)

Friday, December 16, 2011

Did I Really Just Say That?

"J, honey, we don't whack dragons with rolling pins when the dragon is your sister's head."

Another oldie...from back in J's early days of constant climbing/teetering on edges of dangerously high places:
"J, we SIT on tables, not stand on them."
(Ummm...actually, polite people don't sit or stand ON tables, but I could tell that to my son until I was blue in the face with the same result each time.  That result being no indication that he heard me or cared if he was polite or not.)

Out Of The Mouths Of Boys

Overheard by me as I laughed around the corner:
N(reading J a book):  "Lookit!  A pamingo (aka flamingo), J.  Can you say pamingo?"
N:  "No.  You're saying it wrong.  It's PA-mingo, not AH-mingo.  Say it right!"
...Repeat previous two lines over and over...
J (shaking head): "Oh, N, you makin' me CWAZY!"

N & J arguing over lyrics of Rebecca Black's Friday:
N: "NO!  (singing) It "Friday, Friday, you get down Friday..."
J: "Friday, Friday, GET DOWN!"
Repeated until my ears bled.

Me: "N, please do not kick J in his face."
N:  "Oh, I not kicking him.  I just covering his mouth with my feet."

N (yelling something loudly, so I asked him what he said):  "YIKES!  Like Y-K-S, you know?"

N: "No blowin' at me soldier!"
J: "That not me.  That just you!"

Me: "J, how much do you love Daddy?"
J: "A LOT of much."

J:  "Mom.  Hold me on your lap, and I will tell you a little story about a robot."

N (when I asked him not to pick his nose/eat the contents because boogers were gross):  "But, Ab, sometimes my boogers are good.  They taste like paper...or cheese.  But not like pee or poop...or any other gross potty words."