I flusheded and flusheded and flusheded the toilet. Then the water all falled out!
Me: Hi, honey. How was your nap?
Her: I wasn’t tired.
Me: You slept for two hours…
Her: But I wasn’t tired!
Me: That’s because you slept for two hours.
Her: My eyes are tired.
Me: Maybe you needed to sleep more than two hours.
Her: But I’m not tired!
Today’s giggles, brought to you by Brenia:
“Mommy, I washed my face with the rug!” (While I laughed hysterically, it was comforting to find out she meant rag.)
“Stacia needs an eyeball for her lamp.”
I love when little kids start learning to tell jokes. The concept is there, but the punch line is never quite…funny, which makes it hilarious as all get out. Here are Brenia’s first attempts at humor:
Her: Knock knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Her: Baby not crying.
Me: Baby not crying who?
Her: Lorelai!
Her: Knock knock.
Stacia: Who’s there?
Her: Food
Stacia: Food who?
Her: Food eating!
Stacia: That doesn’t even make sense.
Her: It’s a joke, Stacia!
Chelle was just talking about the faerie at her house last week, and I giggled remembering the “it wasn’t me” refrains when I was growing up. The “not me” phenomenon has come back to haunt me. We now have a goost at our house—commonly referred to as a ghost by those over the age of three.
The Goost stole the baby’s pacifier. The Goost kept her from taking a nap. The Goost colored on the kitchen floor, and The Goost spilled milk on the kitchen table. So far, The Goost appears to be a friendly—albeit messy—ghost, but we’re not taking any chances. Stacia is becoming an expert Goost-shooer to keep it is safe for Brenia to go to the potty. That process is hard enough on its own.
If The Goost sticks around much longer, we just may need a bigger house. We’re starting to get a bit cramped as it is.