That Boy Makes Us Laugh

Iain: I want to paint the house purple. That's fun. Let's go do it! Bye-bye. Mama, open the door for you [he gets "me" and "you" mixed up. Same with "my favorite" and "your favorite."]. I paint the house purple!
Me: No, we're not going to paint the house.
Iain, whining: Okay! I will paint the houuuuse! I will paint the house purple. I will paint the house purple. I will paint the house purple... open the door for me. Open the door for me. Open the door for me. Paint the house purple (and on and on it goes).



Iain, a monologue: A ba-nah-na? Now what? The alien falls down. He slips on the ba-nah-na (it's the same every time! He's talking about a scene from his movie William's Wish Wellingtons, which is British, accounting for the accent on the word banana. This is the face he makes every time he says it.).




And for the record, when Iain says "thank you," it sounds like "hey zhoo."



This look is called, inexplicably, the Pirate Face:




The other day in Nona's pool, Iain spent most of his time either doing this:



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Or this:



He called the latter Eating Ice Cream.



Iain, from bed: Mama! I need a drink!
Me, walking in: Iain, you just had a drink.
Iain, wailing: I need some cheeeeeeeessssse!



Beats me - this one is all his own ("bajeebers" is copyright Nan). (Sorry it's sideways!)

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transcription:
Iain: Bajeebers!
Me: What are you doing, Iain?
Iain: Smacking bajeebers...out.



The other day, I rearranged all the furniture in the living room (don't tell me you never get that bug). There was an indentation in the carpet left from the couch leg. Iain called it his "pot" (spot) and spent a while looking at it. I asked what he was looking at, and he said a "hhnail" (snail). Okaaaay. Then he got up and sat on it and said he was thinking. I asked what he was thinking about...
Iain: Elephant. (?!?)




On the way home from buying a pack of watercolors for the Iain,
Iain: I am happy for my colors.

(can you see his reflection upside down in the plate?)



This one takes some explaining. Iain doesn't care for broccoli. I had read of a mom calling broccoli "dinosaur trees" to make it more fun to eat. So for several weeks, every time we ate it (fairly often), I'd ask Iain if he wanted some. Finally, he grew exasperated with my continual disregard for its actual name and said in an annoyed tone
Iain: I don't want to eat broccoli like a dinosaur!