Saw a male bird courting a female bird in the Lowe's parking lot. After I (discreetly and tastefully) explained what was going on, this:
The Kid: Well I certainly hope he's planning to marry her at the temple BEFORE she has a baby in her belly. Then they can be together forever and see their babies in heaven.
Me: Dude, you look tired.
The Kid: Well, you know I can't get any sleep because Tater is always crying and daddy is always snoring. You know what I mean?
Me: Yeah. I do.
While watching the Call Me Maybe video:
The Kid: Why does that girl want that boy to call her Maybe? That's a funny name. I would want him to call me Baby.
Me: Dude, I can't find the remote.
The Kid: Well, it's gotta be here somewhere. It doesn't have legs. It couldn't have walked away.
The Kid: Mama, when Elsa builds her castle out of ice, did it have a bathroom?
Me: I don't know.
The Kid: Because a toilet made out of ice would freeze her bum.
The Kid: Mama, I wish I was a skunk and had a scent sack on my bum to spray people I don't like.
The Kid has moved from her lemonade stand to a cupcake stand. She made some cupcake batter that, according to her, is made of "toothpaste, soap, water, and just a little bit of spit." She says she plans to charge $1, 10 pounds, or 1 yen. Looks like we'll have to work on her knowledge of conversion rates.
Driving past the paper mill (which smells worse than even a hog farm...for real) and this:
The Kid: What's that smell? It smells like not fresh air. And broccoli. And Vladimir Putin.
I smashed my finger today:
Me: CRAP! Crap, crap, crap!
The Kid: Uh-uh, mama. That's potty mouth.
The Kid won a giant jar of bubble gum at the library's patron appreciation day. I hid it from her last night. This morning, Husband informed her that the leprechauns had taken it but that if we spoke to them nicely, they'd probably give it back.
Me: Do you think daddy will be able to get your gum back?
The Kid: If he speaks to them nicely, they will. And if they don't, he can just shake them really hard.
Last night, after an hour long crying jag by The Tater, The Kid looks at me and says, "Man, mama! It looks like you're having a rough night."
As we are buying Easter candy:
The Kid: I thought Easter eggs were made by Easter chickens. But this one is made by Willy Wonka. Obviously. It says it right here on the egg.
Trying to explain the true meaning of Easter and this is what she got out of it:
The Kid: I don't know what kind of mean boys would ever nail the Easter Bunny to a cross.
Looks like I still have some 'splainin' to do.
The Kid: Today is Friday and that's the library day.
Me: Well, the library is closed because it's a holiday.
The Kid: It's a HOLIDAY?! Well, I shall be expecting some presents then!
Had to take a loan out from The Kid's piggy bank to buy some eggs from a friend and this:
The Kid: Well, I guess you can have my money, but you have to pay me back.
Me: Ok, I'll give you $3 tomorrow.
The Kid: No, not $3. $6.
Me: But I only borrowed $3.
The Kid: Yeah, but do you understand that it was my money?
The Kid: Where does the Easter bunny go to church?
Me: I don't know, dude.
The Kid: Well, he'd better go to church somewhere. I believe he needs to focus on Jesus.
The Kid: Mama, I hate to have to tell you this, but Strawberry Shortcake is a liar.
The Kid: Let's make a deal. How about you give me some of your drink?
Me: And what are you going to give me?
The Kid: Absolutely nothing. It's a pretty good deal. Now shake on it.
The Tater just tooted like an old man and this from The Kid:
Oh, man, I think he has a crap monster in his diaper.
Me: Dude, are you hungry?
The Kid: Well, what did you make?
Me: Macaroni and cheese.
The Kid: Oh. Good. Because sometimes you make food that my tummy is not so excited about. But I can't eat right now because I'm busy selling snacks on a pirate ship.
I thought it'd happen way before now, but I finally caught The Kid trying to feed The Tater. Her food of choice? Bacon. When I took it away and The Tater started bawling she said, "See, mama, he thinks it's more delicious than milk. I knew it."
We've been having a tough time teaching The Kid not to scratch a patch of eczema on her ankle (that was a big, fat, bloody mess). She started scratching it again last night and when I asked her about it she said, "I'm not scratching. I'm just getting the itch off."
Me: Dude, why are you picking your nose?!
The Kid: I'm not picking my nose. I'm just getting all the extra pieces out.
Came out of the shower this morning with an old, red t-shirt wrapped around my hair and this, "Oh, mama, that's the best pirate costume EVER!"
"Mama, sometimes I feel berry, berry bad for Tate. Because all that comes out of your nipples is regular milk. And sometimes strawberry. But never chocolate."
The Tater lurves The Kid - grins every time he sees her. Today:
Me: Tater thinks you're amazing!
The Kid: I know. Obviously.
Our neighbor likes to sit shirtless on his patio with his crying newborn (and The Tater usually joins in). Today, The Kid stood up to the window and shouted, "Hey, I'll be right down! I know what to do with a crying baby! But you have to put your shirt* on, ok?! We don't want you to be nakey!"
*The Kid was wearing nothing but undies.
The Kid: Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! That's Spanish.
Me: Oh, really? What does it mean?
The Kid: Well, it means ouch. In English.
The Kid: Mama, I've invited my daddy in our trip across the nation. Let's make him a backpack to take aboard the aircraft.
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