Out of the Mouths of Babes

I can't let time pass without chronicling some of the things that these kids say to me on a daily basis. It's just too good not to share. They've been producing some serious gems lately; they are too good to keep to myself.

Good old fashioned tree climbing.

Claire
Claire wins for the most tender one-liner as of late. I'm a big fan of jammies, blankets and cuddling and basically anything cozy. She asked me about this, and said:

"Mommy, why do you like to be so cozy? Did Uncle Elliott snuggle you a lot?" I love that she understands what a kind loving person he was.

During her recent piano lesson, Claire was learning Away in a Manger and singing along. As the teacher taught her the line with the baby Jesus asleep where he lay, Claire blurted out "Yeah, where he lay like 2000 years ago..." old news to her apparently. 

Helping mommy make 'kini' (zucchini) bread

August
I was recently coloring with my baby girl, and she looked over at me, and said with so much sincerty, "Mom, I'm glad you're here."

Claire had one of her favorite friends, Bella, over on Sunday. The girls were thrilled to be together and having a great time, hence the volume level was at its maximum. When they left to go back over to Bella's house, I was prepping August for her afternoon nap, and she said something that makes me genuinely believe she is 60 years old, not two:

"Wow, those are two loud Queen Bees." - are you kidding me, with this stuff.

She speaks in dramatic exclamatory phrases, like she lives in some kind of Southern Baptist tent revival, and continually has to fan herself when something is said against her delicate sensibilities.  She proclaims with much seriousness "Oh my" and "Oh my goodness." I want to get her a Sunday hat and a fan, and teach her to fan herself while she says it.

Mom: August what do you want for breakfast?
August: I want roses. (Okay, your highness.)

Mom: Auggie how old are you?
August: a lion.
Mom: You're two.
August: And, I'm a lion, too.

Mom: August, how old are you?
August: Jamas.
Mom: August, how old are you?
August: Red.

Mom: What's daddy's real name?
August: Dad Stout.
She begins rethinking his name, remembering his middle name is Damon, and corrects herself.
His name is Daddy Namon Stout.

Mom: What is mommy's name?
August: Piano.
Mom: Try again...
August: Mommy Piano Stout
I'll never correct that.

Mom: What does Santa Claus say?
August: Tick tock, tick tock. (She may be on to something here...)

She still calls yogurt "whoa-grit." She's also the ring leader for mischief, and if I'm not prompt enough removing the children from their high chairs, she begins the antics including a deep conditioning hair treatment of mac and cheese, whoa-grit, and any other food that she can grind into her hair. Sam quickly follows suit.

Sam lost his sucker - look closely, you'll find it in his mop of hair.

Sam
My guileless, happy little boy... his favorite salutation to anyone in his presence, is a sudden joyful burst "Happy to YOU" that crescendos with feeling and volume every time he utters the phrase. He just says it to himself, quietly with pride... and he is generous in sharing "Happy to YOU" with anyone he comes into contact with.

Sam's stuffed animals are his prized possessions. He continues to collect more and more that are officially part of the "committee." They accompany him at all times. Of course this is not unusual and it's totally endearing, however the entourage is growing more quickly than his tiny t-rex arms, and he cannot even carry all of them without stuffing some under his chin. It's getting to the point where we are making him thin the herd... and it's basically Sophie's choice for him.

The children have made a catwalk / runway out of the kitchen into the living room. They have regular races (often one man races) and Sam runs as fast his little drumsticks can go. He's moving so slowly it's barely visible to the naked eye, but the smile on his face and his pink little cheeks as he works up a sweat make it quite clear he thinks he is supersonic.

I read the kids a book about dinosaurs during lunch, and the book explained that they were extinct. This is a concept that does NOT exist to a two-year old. So Sam promptly reframed it: "Dinosaurs are on a time out?" Yes, Sammy... I suppose they are.

A couple of weeks ago Sammy coughed really hard and it made him throw up a little bit. He hasn't ever thrown up and didn't understand what was happening. He was entirely scandalized, and kept saying to us with urgency and fear, "I spit out! I spit out!" When Claire was little, she used to warn us and say very very quickly, "I'mgoingtobesickinanbowl!!!!!!!! I'mgoingtobesickinabowl!!!!!!!!"

Can't wait for what comes out next....

I am so grateful for my live-in comedy troupe.

Happy Thanksgiving little people.... I could not be more grateful for you no matter how hard I tried.