Milo: Not sure Darwin would agree
Milo: “Mommy, I’m the evolved form of Morris.”
Either a wanna-be intellectual or zombie in training
Milo: “I love my brain, yeah! Cause brains are awesome, yeah! I love brains, yeah! Cause they are awesome, yeah!”
Hit me mommy one more time
Me: “Morris, why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?”
Morris: “Ha! ha! ha! I’m not hitting me, you’re hitting me!”
Me: “Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?”
Morris: “HA! HA! HA! Mommy STOOOOOOOOOOP! … Do it again.”
Think I’ll have what he’s having
Morris, eating lunch: “I LOVE IT! IT’S SO GOOD I CAN’T EVEN BLINK MY EYES.”
I was hoping for roses
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.”
Quitters never win—and also run the risk of having their brains eaten
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!”
Must have heard it from the vampires in the playground
Me: “It’s time for your bath, dude.”
Milo: “Aww!”
Me: “We can snuggle together after your bath and watch a bit of Firebreather. How does that sound?”
Milo: “That’ll be sucking awesome!”
Me: “Uh, what does THAT mean?”
Milo: “It’s when you love something so much you’ll suck on it. Yeah! Sucking awesome!”
What the little guy does when the big guy is in school all day
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.”
Let’s keep it that way, shall we?
Morris: “Blood is inside you!”
Never go up against a three-year-old when logic’s on the line
Me: “… And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ev–”
Morris: “MOMMY STOP SINGING!”
Me: “Why can’t I–”
Morris: “MOMMY DON’T TALK!”
Me: “…”
Morris: “DON’T TALK!”
Me: “…”
Morris: “I said, DON’T TALK, Mommy!!!”
Me: “I’m NOT talking. I’m listening to you tell me not to talk.”
Morris: “THAT’S TALKING! I told you, Mommy, DON’T TALK!”
