A matter of scientific inquiry
Overheard from the bathroom upstairs…
“Hey Dad! Guess how hard I can smack my butt!”
SMACK.
“Ow!!!”
Poor thing never had a chance
Morris: “Milo, whatcha drawing?”
Milo: “A T-Rex fighting a unicorn. That’s you riding on the T-Rex’s back.”
Morris: “OH YEAH! Unicorn, you’re going down!”
Super Bad
Morris: “Hey Mom! When you’re done working, do you want to play Super Bad Bros? I mean, Super Bad Brother and Sister?”
Me: “YES. So long as I get to be the super baddest of them all.”
Morris: “YEAH! SUPER BAD BROS!!!”
Ix-nay the um-wiggling-bay
Morris: “Mommy, come watch the Bubble Guppies video with me!”
Me: “After I finish the dishes, sweetie.”
Milo: “I’ll watch it with you.”
Morris: “Okay!”
Milo: “But if it has any guys butt wiggling, I’m running upstairs to hide in my room!”
Me: “Wait a minute — YOU’RE scared of a little butt wiggling?”
Milo: “YES! BUTT WIGGLING IS VERY, VERY SCARY.”
Me: “You have honestly shocked me.”
Lest We Forget
Morris: “Mommy, guess what my name is.”
Me: “Um, it’s Morris?”
Morris: “Nope! See my poppy?” He thrusts out his chest. “It’s a hint.”
Me: “Your poppy is a hint to your name.”
Morris: “Yep.”
Me: “Okay… Is it Po?”
Morris: “No!”
Me: “Is it Red?”
Morris: “No!”
Me: “Is it Soldier?”
Morris: “Nooooo!”
Me: “Is it War Hero?”
Morris: “…. No.” (I’m pretty sure at this point he was wishing it WAS War Hero.)
Me: “Is it Flower Power?”
Morris: “NO!!!”
Me: “Okay, I give up. What’s your name?”
Morris: “It’s Poppy Man! Geez, I thought you would get that!”
At least he’s secure about his masculinity
Morris: “Mommy, look at my bouncy ball. It has all sorts of nice colours in it. Even pink. I like pink!”
Me: “Yep, nothing wrong with pink.”
Morris: “I like pink a LOT. It’s my favourite colour.”
Me: “Really.” (I’m somewhat surprised, given that his favourite colour for the past few weeks has been black.)
Morris: “Yep.”
Me: “Guess we’d better get you more pink stuff, then.”
Morris: “Uhhh… okay.”
Me: “What would you like? A pink shirt? Pink pants? Pink shoes?”
Morris: “How about a pink sword? That would be so cool!”
He’s more of a “talk it out” kind of guy
Me: “The night Max made mischief of one kind and another, his mother called him ‘WILD THING!’ and Max said, ‘I’LL EAT YOU UP!’ so he was sent to bed without eating anything.”
Milo: “That is SUCH bad parenting.”
Not sure if this was a self-esteem building success or failure
Morris: “I feel like an idiot!”
Me: “Don’t feel like an idiot — feel like a genius!”
Morris: “I feel like a genius poo!”
Me: “Don’t feel like a genius poo — feel like a genius MAD SCIENTIST. That sounds like much more fun!”
Morris: “I feel like a GENIUS MAD SCIENTIST POO!”
A call for stricter imaginary gun laws
Milo and Morris are at the breakfast table, building guns. Morris hands me an attached assortment of building blocks. “Here’s your gun, Mommy.”
I aim it at him and start shooting. “Pew! Pew! Pew!” Then I shoot Milo. “Pew! Pew! Pew”
Morris: “But Mom, we’re your sons!”
Me: “That’s why I’m shooting love bullets.”
Morris aims his gun at me. “I’m shooting BOMB bullets.”
Me: “But I’m your mom!”
Morris: “Duck!”
I duck. He shoots over my shoulder. “Boom!” Then he looks at the cupboard behind me. “Uh oh. I broke a glass.”
Guess I’m more predictable than I thought
This is what happens every day when Morris comes home from daycare…
Morris: “Mom, DON’T FREAK OUT.”
Me: “Oh. Hi, Morris. You’re home.”
Morris: “Okay, you can freak out now.”
Me: “YAY! MY SWEETIE BUM IS HOME!!! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”
Morris: “I knew you would say that.”
