I was trying to check the weather and find out about plans for tomorrow. Blake asked me to help him with something.
Me: Jack, please go help him. I’m trying to take care of tomorrow.
B: Tomorrow can take care of itself. It’s very responsible.
B: Isn’t a poodle a kind of dog?
B: Is it a breed?
B: What’s it a breed of?
Me: *sigh* Dog.
B: I love Jack. He’s the best thing since toilet paper.
B: Mama, remember when I had that sunburn and it made weird marks on my face?
Me: Not really.
B: The marks that made me look like one of those guys.
Me: *blank look* What guys?
B: Like those guys in the west.
Me: *another blank look*
B: You know, those guys in the cowboy movies.
B: Yeah, Indians. I bet somebody saw me and thought an Indian put those marks in me while I was asleep.
Blake after a shower: There’s water coming out of my belly button! My belly button is drooling!
During a visit to a farm:
J: I want fried chicken.
B: Jack! The chickens can hear you!
B: All this snuggling is the work of one little boy.
B: The reason KFC is Kentucky-fried is because you put Kentucky sauce on it.
B: Life is better with me.
Blake has a Lego robot thing that he built from his imagination (and Legos). There is no backstory on this guy other than what Blake has made up. He just told me, “I did some research on this guy and found out he was in a nuclear explosion.” Then, “It was the accident of ’87.”
Blake in the bathtub: Does the moon affect this water?
J: You’re hair tastes like kid. My hair tastes like intellectual adult.
B: I’m an intellectual adult!
The weirdest part of all that is that there was not actually any hair-eating going on. Jacky was just trying to make Blake get off his bed. No, I have no clue how this conversation was supposed to accomplish that.
B: Did you notice I got a haircut?
Me: yes, I did.
B: Thank you for noticing. I’m now pleased with you.
Dad fixed BBQ chicken and corn for supper. When I got to the table, Blake was already there, and he was about to cry.
Me: What’s wrong?
B: I guess I don’t get anything I want this weekend. [He rarely comes out and asks for anything.]
Me: What are you talking about?
B: I guess I don’t get anything I want to eat this weekend.
Me: What do you want? You know you have to actually ask for something to get it. Asking doesn’t guarantee you’ll get it, but not asking pretty much guarantees you won’t get it.
Dad: I took you to the buffet Friday night and the other [Chinese] buffet last night.
Me: And you said you had chocolate pudding and you were excited.
B: I asked Daddy for what I wanted.
Dad and me: What was it?
B: I asked Daddy. I guess he forgot.
Me: What did you ask him to fix?
B: I don’t remember.
Me: You don’t remember. Then why do you expect Daddy to remember? Maybe this is what you asked him to fix.
B, smiling and becoming a whole different kid: You have my point, Mama! I don’t know what I asked for! Let’s just start over.
We were at a friend’s pool. Blake was at the shallow end, singing (as he does) and Jack was in the deep end yelling over at Blake to stop singing.
J: Mama, can you tell Blake to stop singing?
B: Jack! Stop bragging about me!
I don’t think that word means what you think it means.
When it was time to leave our friends’ house, Jack somehow missed me saying, “Jack, it’s time to go,” three times and was still inside talking -and waiting for us – after I had already buckled Blake into the car. As we walked back outside, we could hear B having an engaging conversation. With himself.
J: Who are you talking to?
B: Myself. I’m very admirable… What does admirable mean?
Me: Probably not what you think it means.
Jack had one grilled sandwich left the previous night. He took it out of the refrigerator.
B: It’s not grilled because it was in the refrigerator.
Me: Putting it in the refrigerator doesn’t make it ungrilled. It doesn’t change how it was cooked.
J: Yeah. Like putting ice in the oven doesn’t make it unfrozen.
Me: Well, actually it does.
J: Yeah, I realized that when I said it.
[Background: Jack and Blake have two older brothers and an older sister.]
How to confuse a six-year-old:
J, talking about some weird flyswatter thing: G has one. Or maybe it’s D.
Me: You have so many brothers you can’t keep them straight?
B: Mama, he only has three brothers.
Me: Oh yeah? Well, L has four brothers, so how does Jack only have three?
B: *blank look*