Morris: “If you eat a snail, you diiiiiiiiiie.”
Milo: “Snails can’t kill you, Morris. There’s no WAY a snail can kill you. Unless it’s a mutant snail. With arms. Holding a bazooka… and a flame thrower… and a pistol.”
Morris, showing me a plastic shovel: “Look mom, I have a watering can!”
Me: “Is that the one you were using to plant bombs on me earlier?”
Morris: “No! It plants flowers.”
Me: “Oh, good. Flowers are so much nicer than bombs.”
Morris: “It plants BOMB flowers.”
Morris: “Mommy, when I use my spoon like this I’m shooting bombs at you.”
He puts his spoon in his mouth, points the handle at me, and starts making high-pitched squeaking sounds.
Me: “Are you shooting me now?”
He nods and takes the spoon out of his mouth. “Now you’re dead.”
Me: “So how do you feel, having killed your own mother?”
Morris: “Bad… But now you’re a zombie!”
Me: “Braaaaaains… Braaaaaaains…”
He puts the spoon in his mouth and starts making those high-pitched squeaky sounds again.
Me: “Missed me!”
Morris: “No, I didn’t!”
Me: “Yes you did.”
Morris: “I DON’T WANT TO PLAY ANYMORE!”
Morris, playing on the stairs:
“Go Turtle! Go zoom zoom zoom! Go Zombie, go Zombie! This guy has green blood and red blood and bluuuuuue blood! Now one last doggie. Woo woo! Whoa! Whoa! Which one should I throw first? I got this guy next and I got this guy next too. I should throw this one and this one and I’ll throw this guy first. Poo! Pooo! Poooo! And I cut all the zombies in pieces because that’s my trick. Now I jumpy jump! Ow! ow! ow! ow! Hi Dad! I’m throwing these down the stairs.”
Rob: “Would you like some mushrooms?”
Milo: “NO WAY!”
Morris: “Blech! Blech! Blech!”
Rob: “They’re cooked in butter and garlic.”
Milo: “GARLIC???”
Morris: “Blech! Blech! Blech!”
Rob: “They’ll keep the vampires away.”
Milo: “I know. Wait – are vampires real?”
Morris: “Vampires! Yeah!”
Morris: “I still have my owee!”
Me: “Hmm?”
Rob: “He has a scratch on his hand but I don’t know how he did it.”
Morris: “I think aliens did it.”
Me: “Aliens, huh?”
Morris: “Yep! Daddy didn’t do it, and you didn’t do it, and Milo didn’t do it.”
Me: “So it had to have been aliens?”
Morris: “Yep!”
Milo: “If a frog ate me, I’d just punch him in the stomach. I’d punch him IN the stomach. Even if it was slimy.”
Overheard from the living room, where Milo is playing Lego Batman: “Think you’re cool? Oh yeah? You’re barely cool, ya butt cheek.”
Morris points to my dinner plate. “I took it!”
Me: “You took my plate?”
Morris nods. “I took it and put it in jail.”
Me: “Why did you put my plate in jail?”
Morris: “Because it’s a BAD GUY.”
Milo: “Yeah, Mom! It’s a Transformer robot that can turn into a plate and just roll away. And if you break it, it DIES.”
Milo: “Mom, look at the script I wrote!”
Me, glancing down at the sheaf of ink-covered papers he’s given me. “Don’t you mean, ‘look at the script I stamped?’”
Milo: “No, I wrote it in secret code so the Devil Masters can’t read it! Only the all-powerful Power Masters can read it. And we can use its magic to RULE YOU ALL!
