The Hubster surprised us yesterday by taking the afternoon off from work. It was supposed to be his 'short day', when he normally works a double, so it was nice to have him home for dinner. The kids celebrated the best way they know - by talking non-stop and asking 32,000 questions. File this one under "I've just gotta write this stuff down!"
"Mom, what's six plus five plus four plus twenty-hundred?"
"Prince Fielder's at bat...he does a practice swing -- now William, you pitch to me, OK? You be Dave Bush."
"I'm not eating my vegables. I don't like vegables." [Five minutes later] "Why I not get any salad? I want salad!"
"Nicholas, stop adding and eat your dinner. NOW."
"Mom, how old will you be when I'm 100?"
"So if I'm good and eat all my dinner we can have rootbeer fizzies?"
Which of course, naturally transitioned to 'beer':
"Mom likes beer. Right Mom? And you go to the bar. With your friends. And drink beer."
Oh Lord. I can hear the kindergarten teacher calling now.
So I try to change the topic. "Sometimes. You know Mommy's friends, right?" They name a few. Then Will says, "And that lady? That got locked out? Behind the bars? She's your friend, too, right Mommy?"
"If I could write you a song, and make you fall in love, I would already have you under my arm." (x 412)
Followed by "NICHOLAS! Stop singing and EAT.YOUR.DINNER."
"Here comes Ryan Braun at bat...and it looks like...ITS A HOME RUN!!! WOO HOO!"
"Stop pretend-pitching to your brother and eat your dinner."
"Mom. What's five plus five? You don't know, do you? I know. Shhh...William, don't tell her."
"William, don't you dare throw that up. Don't you dare! Don't you -- DAMN."*
*Its a consistency thing with him. If he chews something too long he gags and sometimes pukes. Totally gross, but totally not a real sickness.