Morris: “Mommy, can I have a snack?”
Me: “No, you already had a snack. You had that graham cracker.”
Morris: “I don’t want a graham cracker!”
Me: “But it’s already in your belly.”
Morris: “Then get it out!”
Me: “How?”
Morris: “First we screw my belly, then we hammer it, then we open it up and take it out.”
Me: “All right, then, you get the screwdriver and the hammer and we’ll get right on that.”
Milo: “Morris, you’re the nicest Morris in the entire universe. And in the entire multiverse, too.”
Morris: “Oh what fun it is to poop in a one-butt open poop poop poopy poop poop butt!”
Milo: “Hey, little Mor-baby, Mor-baby, Mor-baby.”
Morris: “No! Don’t call me that!”
Milo: “How about Mor-toddler, then?”
Morris: “No!”
Milo: “How about Mor-boy?”
Morris: “NO!”
Me: “How about Mor-ris?”
Morris: “NO!!!”
Me: “Well, if we can’t call you Morris, what should we call you?”
Milo: “How about Spike Dude?”
Morris: “Yeah!”
Milo comes running into the house. “Mom! Mom! Abby gave me tons of crossbows!”
Me: “Oh, really?”
Milo: “Yeah! Look!” He holds out a large bunch of multicoloured plastic clothes hangers.
Me: “Um, those are hangers.”
Milo: “Well, *I* call them crossbows. Fip–PWING!”
At the dinner table…
Morris holds up his clenched fist and blinks his large blue eyes at me. “Mommy, would you like a knuckle sandwich?”
Morris: “Mommy, where does Saint Sponge Bob live?”
Overheard from downstairs…
Milo: “Hey, Morris, you want to come read a book with me?”
Morris: “Okay!”
Milo: “Okay, come on, let’s go read a book.”
Morris launches himself off the couch to jump on Milo.
Milo: “Ahhhh, this is a good old time, just like the old days.”
Milo sees a guy on TV wearing nothing but a chainmail vest. “That can’t be very warm.”
Me: “No, but if someone hits him it’s really going to hurt their hands because they’d be hitting metal. And it won’t hurt him so much because the metal will absorb the blow.”
Milo: “Yeah. That’s why it doesn’t hurt Superman when people hit him—because he’s the Man of Steel.”
