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.”
Heard from outside…
Milo: “Hey, Morris! You wanna play ‘stab the Morris?'”
Morris: “NO.”
Morris: “Does Wolverine have claws?”
Me: “Yes, he does! Big claws.”
Morris: “Does he scratch with them?”
Me: “Yep. That’s what he does.”
Morris: “Does he scratch his elbow?”
Me: “Um, sometimes, probably.”
Morris: “Does he scratch his back?”
Me: “If it’s itchy, I guess.”
Morris: “Does he sing?”
Me: “Wolverine, sing? Maybe.”
Morris: “What does he sing?”
Me: “I don’t know. What do you think Wolverine sings?”
Morris: “Spider Man! Spins a web any size, catches thieves just like flies, yeah!”
Milo: “You look happy.”
Me: “I am! I just had a meeting with some great new clients and I’m so excited to be helping them with their website because they give local artists more exposure for their work, and that’s what I want to be doing, too.”
Milo: “I’m with you, Mom! Even though it’s totally boring and I don’t really know what you’re talking about, I’m with you.”
Milo: “Mom, wouldn’t it be mean if a babysitter actually sat on a baby? That would be so weird! And if the baby was only one month old… whoa!”
Morris: “Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy! MOMMY!!!”
Me: “Yes?”
Morris: “You’re a chopstick.”
Morris, holding up a rotini impaled on his fork: “This is a slug.”
Me: “Oh, really.”
He eats the noodle then stabs another one and holds it up. “This is a slug, too.”
Me: “Ooooh, that’s a green one. What do green slugs taste like?”
Milo: “Like poo.”
Morris smiles and pops the rotini in his mouth.
Me: “So? What did it taste like?”
Morris: “Strawberries!”
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!
Morris: “Mommy, I’m glad Daddy’s not dead.”
Me: “Me too, honey.”
Rob: “Me too!”
Morris: “If Daddy died, he would be a zombie.”
Milo: “Yeah, and all he’d ever make for dinner would be brain soup. And we’d be all, ‘bleaaaah!’ whenever he tried to make us eat it.”
Morris: “Brain soup isn’t good for me! I like apple poop. Uh huh! Apple poop is very, VERY good for me.”
Milo: “Mom, if you were a mouth without a body, and you were eating, then you’d go chew chew chew gulp and then the food would just fall out. And it would be poo. Yep, chew and poo, that’s what you’d do.”
