B: Do you know what a fraud is?
Me, not sure I was hearing what he was saying: Fraud?
B: Yeah. You know what it means, don’t you?
Me, curious: What does it mean?
B: It’s like if you get a magic wand out of a cereal box, and try to make a wish, it’s not going to work because it’s fake.
Me: Yes, it is.
B: So are wishbones.
#lifelessons from Blake: Cereal-box magic wands and wishbones are frauds.
B: I like to talk like Arnold Snortzenegger. Continue reading
B: Beg my pardon. Can you come help me?
I’ve been giving Blake 1mg of melatonin for a while. It doesn’t help Jack. I finally remembered to get a bottle of 3mg, and Jack had one last night.
Me: Did the 3mg melatonin work better? There’s also a 5mg.
J: Not really. I think we need to try the 5mg. If that doesn’t work, I need an elephant tranquilizer.
B was trying to be sad, but he walked down the stairs half-smiling. Seeing him smile made me smile.
B: stop smiling! It’s cautious.
B: it’s infective.
A minute later: B: I can’t stop laughing. Someone control me. No one can control me. I’m a wild beast. Continue reading
B: Aren’t all your bones attached to your spine?
Me: Uh, not exactly. That would make walking really awkward.
(He knows how it’s all connected; it’s just the way he phrased it made it amusing.)
We’re currently battling ants in the kitchen. We’re winning the ant war, but we still have a few persistent stragglers. Last night, Dad made the boys milkshakes and didn’t clean the counter off. He also left the top of the ice cream carton on the counter. I walked into the kitchen and said something about how it must be “Be Nice to Ants Day,” then cleaned the counter. Today, Blake and I were talking about the ants, and he said something about the messy counter. I told him I’d cleaned that off before we went to bed.
“Why did you do that? I thought yesterday was “Be Nice to Ants Day.” Continue reading
While playing Mouse Trap: B: You know the problem with his game, Mama, is that the mice are theoretically building a trap for themselves.
B: Mama, can you name a good animal?
Me: What do you mean by good? Good for what? Good how?
B: A good animal.
Me: I’m not sure what you’re asking.
B: Not good like hostile.
(Did you follow that?)
Me: Okay, so not not hostile. Then I’m not sure what you mean by good. That’s why I asked what you meant.
B: Good like food.
Me: Oh! An animal that tastes good?
Me: Then not good like food.
B: Never mind. I’ll just think about it myself. Continue reading
Following directly on the heels of a discussion about protein and chicken, with barely a breath between:
B: Mama, my foot hurts.
Me: I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a lack of protein.
B: I think it’s because of that ant I stepped on before I took my bath the other day.
I don’t know why I even try to keep up.
Blake had some of his chicken sandwich left.
Me: You can put it in the fridge and eat it when you get hungry.
B: But don’t I need to put it in something to protect it from predators?
B: I just realized that wear and pear are the same word except pear has a p and wear has a w and oh! I know why some people call it “double v” because it’s two Vs together!
And then off he ran, possibly to breathe.
B: Wouldn’t it be weird if a baby had a unibrow? He’d be like, “Yeah, I’m an angry baby!”
Blake’s shirt was inside out.
“Do you think if I put it on like this, everything will be backwards?”
Blake and I have started walking every morning. The first morning, he announced to “any ant that can hear me” that if we step on any ant, it’s an accident.
Blake wore his pirate eye patch and hook on our walk another day. As we walked, he said, “I bet the ants are really confused about who I am.”
He’s very concerned about the ants.
B: If I close my eyes, I have to breathe through my mouth.
Me: I don’t think they’re connected.
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. Continue reading
On Wednesday, we went to the store and bought snacks and drinks for the trip. The boys wanted Ruffles Cheese and Sour Cream chips (or something like that). The first bag Jack found was a little 6 or 7 oz bag that had been stuck on the shelf in the wrong place so it was the only one he could find. We finally found the bigger bags. The little bag was “Oven-Baked.” The big bag was not. We got the big bag.
Thursday afternoon in the car.
B, turning the bag around and around: Where does it say “reheated?”
J: It was “oven-baked,” and that was the other bag.
I’m so glad Jack can read his brother’s mind, because I had no clue what Blake was talking about.
I’m totally stealing this one because I was there and I can. This is a conversation between my cousin’s wife and their four-year-old son.
Mom says something about her sister.
4yo: Who’s your sister?
Mom: well, who’s your aunt, besides Aunt Laurie?
4yo, After a couple of false starts: Aunt Ann?
4yo: Who’s Aunt Hannah?
Mom: There is no Aunt Hannah.
4yo: Then how’s she your sister?
Darius Rucker: My baby plays the guitar.
Blake: That’s pretty impressive.
Me: Not *that* kind of baby. Continue reading