Him: “Mommy? Do you know what monkeys do when they have to go to the bathroom?”
Me: “Uhhh, no. What do they do?” What in the world is he learning at school?
Him: “Oh, I don’t know. I just wanted to know.”
Me: “Um, ok. Why?”
Him: “I was just thinking about monkeys. I bet Daddy knows.”
Should I be amused at the blind faith in Jack’s apparent knowledge of primate elimination habits?
Me: “You can ask him tomorrow.”
“What do you guys think we should do for Daddy’s birthday tomorrow?” I queried Henry and Miranda last night as I was tucking them in. (Jack was working late.)
“I think… I think we should give Daddy a… a… a NEW COMPUTER!” offered a happily bouncing Miranda.
“Hmmm… That’s an interesting idea,” I replied. “What do you think, Henry?”
“I think we should give Daddy, um… ummmm… a TOASTER!” Henry beamed.
“A toaster?” I asked, unsure if I had heard him correctly.
“Yep. Dat’s what dat I said! A toaster!” Henry confirmed, quite proud of the idea.
“Let’s wrap up the toaster!” Miranda chimed in.
“The toaster we have downstairs?” I wondered.
“YES! YES!” was the chorused reply.
“Wellll, I think Daddy has already seen that toaster. What if we were to make him breakfast in bed and give him lots of hugs and kisses?”
“So so so so so so many kisses!” Miranda chirped.
“And and and so so so so many hugs!” Henry added.
“Let’s hug the tuna salad out of him!” Miranda squealed.
“Yeah!” Henry agreed. “Yet’s hug AND kiss da tuna sayahd out of him!”
“That’s a fun idea!” I said.
“But he should still get da toaster!” Henry said.
“And some tuna salad?” I asked.
“Yeah!” replied Henry.
“So we can can hug it out of him!” Miranda concluded.
Ethan, standing in the doorway, said, “I’m going to stick with giving him the poster I made. I’m not a fan of tuna salad.”
The setting, my room. I am getting dressed. Henry walks in. He points to my bra.
Him: “Whassdat?”
Me: “Um… That is something that Mommy wears.”
Him: “What’s its name called?”
Me: “It’s called a bra.”
Him: “Why you have it?”
Me: “It’s something that I wear.”
Him: “But, WHY?”
Me: “Because I need it to wear.”
Him: “Why you need it?”
Me: “I need it to cover myself.”
Him: “Cover what?”
Me, sighing: “My… boobies.” (Mental head smack.)
Him: “What are boobies?”
Me: “Something that Mommies have.”
He pauses.
I wait, knowing what is coming next.
Him: “Can I see your boobies?”
And scene.
Henry: “I can’t cwean up because I am not seven like my bwuhver. Someday I will be seven and I will cwean up then.”
Miranda: “You are not seven. You are still two. Ha ha ha ha.”
H: “Dat is not wight, Muwanda! We are fwee.”
M: “YOU are two. Ha ha ha ha ha!”
H: “WE AWEADY HAD OUR BIRFDAY, MUWANDA! WE ARE FWEE!”
M: “Ha ha ha ha ha!”
H: (muttering) “I am so fwustwatin’ wight now.”
Henry: “I yuv you, Mommy. And I yuv Daddy.”
Me: “Henry, what is love?”
Henry: “I don’t know.”
Me: “Well, what does love make you feel like?”
Henry: “Like… Like hummus!”
Me: “Interesting…”
. . . . .
Miranda: “Mommy! I went poopy on the potty! Do I get a gummie now?
Me: “No, sweetheart. You’re a big girl now. We don’t have gummies for that anymore.”
Miranda: “If we don’t have gummies, what do I get?”
Me: “Satisfaction.”
Miranda: “But I don’t WANT satisfaction! I want another something that I get!”
Me: “You get to feel good about having used the potty.”
Miranda: “Hmmph.”
