Here's just a smattering of the craziness that goes on 24/7 'round these parts:
You: Yook, Momma! A po-weece [police] car!
Me: That's right, buddy! A police car!
You: Why?
You: (after pulling into the driveway) We hooooooome!
Me: Yep, we're home!
You: Why?
You: Yook, Momma! I have Buzz Yightyear!!
Me: Hi Buzz!
You: Why?
You: Yook, Momma! I have on a funny beht [belt]. (You stretched out my kitchen tongs to fit around your plump little belly)
Me: (laughing)
You: Why?
You: Oooh, a big twuck [truck]!
Me: Oh yeah, it's huge!
You: Why huge?
Me: Um, because it's not small?
You: Why not small?
Me: (my brain has melted so I'm absolutely floundering at this point) Um, because it's big?
You: (grinning, TOTALLY aware of what you're doing) Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy???? Whymommawhymommawhymomma?
Me: Oh gracious. Charlie ... please, man ...
Natalie: (cackling like a dang hen from the back seat) Charlie! Ask her another question!! Momma's going crazy! This is FUN!
You also say you're going to ask Daddy if my answer is ever "I'm not sure" or "I don't know". See, now that would totally work on many topics of conversation, like engineering, the Bible, Tulane, the Army, how to make the perfect omelet, etc. But some of the things you say you're going to ask Daddy about are things that Daddy just can't help you with.
Case in point:
You: Where dat guy goin'? (referring to a guy walking down Hwy 90)
Me: Hmm, I'm not sure, bud.
You: *hmph* I ask Daddy.
Um, yeah, Daddy doesn't know either.
You: Where dat car goin'? (referring to the car next to us at a red light)
Me: Maybe to the grocery store, maybe to the dry cleaners, maybe to the gas station. I don't know for sure.
You: Oh well. I just ask Daddy yater [later].
DADDY DOESN'T KNOW THIS EITHER!
You also point out every restaurant we've ever eaten at and ask what we got to eat.
You: Went dere!! (pointing at a local breakfast place)
Me: Yep, we did!
You: What I get?
Me: Pancakes.
You: What Nattie get?
Me: A breakfast sandwich and hashbrowns.
You: What Daddy get?
Me: An omelette
You: What Mommy get?
Me: Eggs and hashbrowns.
(the next day)
You: Went dere! (pointing at the same local breakfast place)
Me: Yep, we sure did!
You: What I get?
Me: Pancakes.
You: What Nattie get?
Me: A breakfast sandwich.
You: What else?
Me: What else what, buddy?
You: What else Nattie have?
Me: Um ....
You: Hass-bwowns!!
Clearly, if I don't give the EXACT answers every time, you grill me until you get the answer(s) that satisfy you. THIS EXHAUSTS ME TO NO END.
And every (e.v.e.r.y.) time we pass by the bowling alley, we have the same conversation:
You: Bo dere!
Me: That's right! That's where we went bowling!
You: Bo 'gain?
Me: Yep, we'll go again.
You: Why?
Daddy had an idea to turn this constant-question-thing back around on you. Instead of answering why, we say "Why do YOU think, Charlie?" Your response? "Ummm, I don't fink." You are such a punk.
I'm sure you did other things this month. I just don't have any more functioning brain cells to figure out what they were. (Now you say, "Why?")
Just for the record, you still hate baths and all things vegetable-y.
Just for the record, I am still hopelessly and proudly wrapped around your grubby and sticky little finger.
Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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