My Little Picasso's

My Little Picasso's

Friday, August 3, 2012

Conversations with a toddler.

Yesterday, Max said he was cooking the babies.  He also told me he was cooking balls.  Then he proceeded to pull these two items out of my oven.  Good thing it wasn't on.

"Max did you poop."
"Charlie pooped."
"No, it wasn't him.  Did you poop?"
"Just fart."

While getting ready for a walk, he points to the drainage pipe down the side of the house and proclaims, "Water goes down there."  Yes, yes it does my brilliant Harvard bound child.

"Doggie ... doggie poop outside."

"Charlie poop.  Big poop."

(I have a feeling I am going to be dealing with a lot of shit in my life, and unfortunately I think my boys will find it to be fascinating.)

"Mommy.  Mommy make coffee."
(Yes, I have two coffeemakers.  You wanna make something of it?)

Arriving in Max's room after a somewhat successful "quiet time" his train table was empty but the water tower and changing guard station.
"Max, where is the track?"
"Clean up."
"Ok, where did you put it all?"
The next day I heard him trying to put it back together.

"Max, are you tired?"
"Max do you want to take a rest?"
"Play more."
"How about play dough at the table?"
(resulting open mouth as in awe and disbelief)

about eight minutes later

He does make me chuckle.

August 3rd, 2012

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