Monday, January 19, 2009
(slurpee on the way back from Yaya's house last week)
Iain, praying: Dear Jesus, thank You for Cory's nose. And for his mouth. In Jesus' name, amen.
Iain, telling the Christmas story, when asked what the wise men brought: Gold cents and myrrh.
Jeremy was telling Iain what dads do.
Jeremy: I'm taking care of you, because I'm a dad and that what dads do. And one day, you'll be a dad, and what will you do?
Iain: I will eat gumballs.
Iain, to me: Fabulous job vacuuming, Mama.
In the middle of a big group of people who were talking (and not to Iain) in our living room, Iain decided to get the attention back on himself by yelling: Holy moly!
Running around outside with Noah: I am a winner! I am a winner! (Is this some kind of self-talk that two-year-olds need to improve their self-image?)
Making a car drive up a wall, the narration went like this: You keep trying to go up the mountain, but you can't handle it! You can't handle it! But you keep trying and trying and... CRASH! (and the car, predictably, falls to the floor)
Unloading the dishwasher, another monologue: Here you go, Mama. Here you go. Now one of dese. Now dat one. Now here's a one. Now here's a bake-able one. Now I come to dis side. Here you go, Mama. Now I get dis bake-able one. Now dat one. Here you go, Mama.
I told Iain that he needed to give Cory the cars that belonged to him (to Cory, that is), if Cory wanted them. Iain found a better solution: Here, Cory, go in the New Room and find some-kin to do. Look at all dose toys in dere.
When Cory and Iain were arguing about a toy just now, I heard squealing (from Cory) and Iain yelling: Fight! Fight! Fight!