“I Know That.”

I know I just blogged about Bennett a couple of days ago, but this blog is also my “baby book” and he says so much cute stuff I don’t want to lose it. Plus, it’s my blog and I can write what I want. Neener neener neener. ­čśŤ

Some things he’s started saying all the time:

“You aggravating me.” This has apparently taken the place of “You ‘noy me.” I don’t think he really knows what it means, though, because the person being addressed is usually just sitting there being harmless.

“Dat’s good enough for me.” I have no idea where he got this, but he says it all the time. At least he uses it correctly… most of the time.

“Dat not very nice!” When someone does something he feels is… not nice. He usually says this to other kids on the playground, although he has said it to me once or twice.

“Here you go.” He says this when handing someone something. And if he’s helping unload the dishwasher, he says it every time he hands me a dish.

“I know that.” This just started. At least there’s no eye-rolling involved. He just calmly states, “I know that,” when you tell him something. No, it’s not usually something he already knew, but apparently that doesn’t matter.

“What kind?” This has taken the place of “Why?”
I’m making lemonade. “What kind of lemonade?”
“What’s for supper?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“What kind of shepherd’s pie?” As far as he knows, there is only one kind of lemonade and one kind of shepard’s pie, so I’m not sure he’s asking what he really thinks he’s asking. Maybe one of us will figure it out soon. In the meantime, he asks about everything.

He’s recently become very concerned that we’re going go off and leave him or Jeffrey home alone. One morning, we were leaving to take Jeffrey to VBS and Jeffrey wasn’t at the door yet. Bennett went crazy. “Don’t leave Jeppy here by heself!” Hadn’t really planned to, but I’m glad you’re looking out for your brother. Separation anxiety by proxy?

He won’t say “cold”. When he first started talking, he wouldn’t use words for anything he had a sound for. Dogs, cats, trains, horses, fire trucks, frogs, etc. He uses all the words now, but he never says cold. He says “brrr”. “It’s brrr outside.” “The water is brrr.” “Is my food brrr yet?”

If you know me or have read my blog before, you know that I mostly talk to my kids like they’re short adults. I try to keep things on a level they can understand without completely dumbing everything down for them. (It’s easier to do it than to explain it.) I can’t help it, really. It’s all I know. I’m an only child and that’s the way my parents talked to me. I’ve always hated all those stupid-cute names for the penis. (I can only imagine what kind of search terms will show up in my stats for this post.) So the first time Jeffrey called it something else, I said, “No, it’s a penis.” And that’s what he’s always called it. But we don’t really sit around having conversations about penises, so it was surprising when out of nowhere the other day, Bennett started using the word in just about every other sentence. Using it correctly, but for no real reason. He just did it for a couple of days, but it was kind of weird.

We had a similar incident with “Coca-Cola”. I don’t let the kids have Coke, but Jeffrey knows what it is, and he’s had a couple, but I don’t know that Bennett really knows what it is. And I certainly don’t know where he heard “Coca-Cola”. Everyone in this house is from the south. We say, “Coke”. I don’t know when he would have heard it on TV. He mostly watches DVDs and even the TV channels he watches don’t have soda commercials. Another mystery. I’ll have to watch that kid.

One liners:
“I’m almost done in just a minute.”
He walked up to me yesterday and said, out of the blue, “Mama, you not stupid.” Good to know, but I have no clue what brought that on.
After I replaced the batteries in Sheriff Woody, “Thanks! You’re a good fixer.” (From Bennett, not Sheriff Woody)

One night he chose pretzels as his snack. After he had eaten all the pretzels, he told me he’d changed his mind and he wanted applesauce instead.

This morning, he told me that there was a bug in my hand. As in inside my hand. I kept asking why it was in there, but instead of answering he kept adding more stuff. I ended up with “A bug, a worm, and a caterpillar. And an ant and a ladybug” in there. I never did find out how they got in there or why they were there.

This isn’t cute, but I did get some insight on the potty situation the other day. He told me he had to go, so we went. When we got in there, he said, “I poop in the potty. It will hurt.” Nothing I could say would convince him that it doesn’t hurt. I tried telling that all of us do it and it doesn’t hurt. His response? “I know that.”