B: I’m tired.
Me: Go take a nap.
B: Not that kind of tired. I’m sweaty. That kind of tired.
Because playing Minecraft is sweaty work.
B: You know why I haven’t been wearing my tennis shoes? Please don’t be mad at me. It’s because they have quicksand all over them.
Blake kept asking questions like, “How old will I be when you’re twenty?” and “Will you move out as soon as soon as you’re twenty?” Jack finally told him, “Don’t worry about that stuff for years. Just enjoy being able to be weird in public without being arrested.”
Me, still trying to convince the boy we’re not going to drown in our yard: See, the water is flowing down the street, down the hill.
B: Yep. It’s just minding it’s own business.
B: Daddy and me are going to the Waffle House.
Me: Okay. Have fun. I’m going to have some oatmeal.
B: Don’t start a fire.
Me: I’ll do my best.
B: You’re a high level of cook.
Apparently not, if my 6yo thinks I’m going to start a fire while cooking oatmeal. Continue reading