Blake walked up to me holding his finger. I couldn’t see any cuts, bruises, or marks.
B:Mama, when I push on my finger it hurts. See?
I see him push. I don’t see it doing anything.
Me: Then stop pushing on it.
Now he’s happily playing Minecraft. Because the only reason his finger was hurting was that he was squishing it. Am I the only one who has noticed that genius and common sense don’t often reside in the same people? I have the same kinds of issues with Jack.
B: Is three-ten the same as two-seventy?
J: Just say you don’t know. (To B) Mama doesn’t know.
Me: Hang on. I want to know what he’s asking….Can you explain what you’re trying to ask? Because either you’re not asking what you think you’re asking, or the answer is no.
B: There’s sixty minutes in an hour, right? So 3:10 is technically 2:70.
B: Why do we even have tongues? For lollipops?
Me: So we can talk and so we can taste….
B: And so we can lick people.
B: My hair is sweating.
B: Fifty plus fifty is one hundred.
B: Six plus six is twelve.
B: So sixty plus sixty is a hundred and twenty.
Excellent reasoning skills, but can you turn down the smart a little, kid?
B, grinning: I’m cute, aren’t I?
Me: You’re adorable. Come here.
He snuggled up to me, and I told him: You’re cute and smart and sweet….
B: And once again, adorable.
He’s modest, too.
B: They made it harder and annoyinger.
J: Hey, I know! Let’s conga!
I must have made some sound.
J: What? We can’t conga?
Me: Sure. Why not?
A minute later, J: Oh, wait. I don’t know how to conga.
Me: Well, then I guess that’s a no, isn’t it?
The boys are playing hide and seek.
B: I know you’re hiding somewhere!
Me: That’s usually how it’s done.