Me: Put your pajamas on, please.
Him: You sit on the floor.
Me: Okay, I’ll sit on the floor while you put your pajamas on. *sitting down*
Him: *tackling me and knocking me flat* DODGEBALL!
Me: *wrestling a squirming boy off my chest* What?? What about the Taj Mahal?
Him: Hee! No, Mama, Dodgeball!
Me: You don’t have a ball.
Him: NO! Mama! I knocked you down. That’s dodgeball!
Me: *peeling him off of me, sitting back up* Ummmm, no, actually that’s not dodgeball. Put your jammies on.
Him: Okay. But first… *launching at me again* DODGEBALL!
Me: Ooof. Um, honey, first of all, please stop LANDING on me, and second of all, dodgeball is played with a ball that you then try to dodge. All you are doing is jumping on me, with no ball, and there has been no dodging. See the difference?
He stopped to consider this, for a moment. There he was, sitting astride my chest, looking contemplative… then he leaned in close until we were nose to nose…
Him: Oh, blah blah blah.
So can your house be a reality TV show? Or at least Monkey’s life? Because I’d SO rather see that on a regular basis. I think the country would get the warm fuzzies.
Snort! Indeed.
He makes his point and he makes it well….
he is too funny…
As I have told you before, that is one adorable dude.
Uh Mommy don’t you realize that he’s the ball?? Oh how I love little boys! :)
You should have DODGED, is the problem.
So, being a smart a** runs in the family? And I hope you take that in the most kindest, complimentary, positive way it was meant.
Sounds like genetics at work to me.
=snort=
I think that’s how my cat hears me…”blah blah blah. Shrimp. Blah, blah, blah…”
Sounds like a great party idea for Chickadee!!!! heh
I love that little Monkey. He’s a hoot.