Son: Daddy, why are you dying?
There is that famous adage that kids say the funniest things. Generally though that's based around spoonerisms or a slight confusion of words that mean two different things. However recounting those things to other people - whether they have kids or not - is mind-numbingly dull for them. Which is a polite way of me admitting that when my friend told me the hilarious story about how their daughter pronounces juice as, "jews" that I secretly wondered if that was a cast-iron clue that their child was Hitler reincarnate. My son though doesn't just do that nonsense. He does of course do things like tell people that you can get peanut butter just by picking your ears (he's apparently keeping the source of where you can dig out Nutella a secret though). Still - my son smashed these three out over the weekend.
1) All of yesterday morning my son kept calling me Mr. Crabs. Unclear as to why, but he had an evil glint in his eye that suggested that calling me Mr. Pediculosis Pubis would have been too obvious.
2) My son randomly asked me yesterday, "Daddy, why are you dying?" I did get to ask his mother later on what on earth that was about on the off chance that my son had overheard a hit-man being booked. Apparently not though (she seemed sincere, so I believe her). I did ask him why he said such a morbid thing but by then he'd run off to scream into his sister's karaoke machine.
3) During dinner on Saturday my son sang a song that only had one line. It being, "Daddy, you have orange juice in your penis." In case you're wondering that isn't true. Not this week anyway. He thought it was an amazing thing to have said judging by how impressed he was with himself. But not as impressive as when he revealed that dumping half a can of peaches onto the table that already has water spilled on it is how you make lemonade. There was a toy teapot under them, but I think if most of the stuff doesn't make it in then it was just a coincidence that it was there rather than the thing being aimed at.
Quite honestly I think his imagination and creative ability with words comes directly from me. After all he has been in my presence during the birth of some of my finest inventions. For example he was there first-hand when I sketched the initial design for the crotchless bra. A triumph of ingenuity that one was. He was also home last year (although not in the room) when I invented something called The Dildog. Although to be honest I haven't decided whether it's intended to be a sex aid for a dog, or a dog-shaped dildo for people who really like their dog far more than they should. If it does ever make it onto the market (I'm hoping to see it in Walmart and Target just in time to be this year's ideal Christmas stocking filler) I do want to stress on packaging that it isn't to be used for both of those activities. Not without being soaked in bleach between each use, at least.
Moving on - here's my daughter's impersonation of a moose. I should point out that strictly speaking she said it's a Minion's impression of a moose.
And lastly she wanted me to take a photo of this leaf because it has odd, little black dots on it. I innocently asked if it had measles or the pox. She preferred my suggested that perhaps a chipmunk hadn't wiped it's arse properly and had tried to spell out, "please can I borrow some toilet paper?" by pressing it's anus on the leaf like you would when painting with a stamp.
Right - I'm off to make some Nutella.