My boy cracks me up a lot. The other day he was playing with Legos and was so proud to show me what he created. "Look, Mama. I may a dun (I made a gun) for spankin' the bad duys!" Ha! His words, not mine!
The other day we were leaving the library. We go to the library at least once a week, so this is nothing new to him, and he very much understands library etiquette and the need to control one's mouth and volume level. While the librarian was checking our books out for us, my son took advantage of the ultra-quiet-although-completely-filled-to-the-brim-with-lots-of-people-environment and YELLED out:
"MAMA, WHEH DID GOD TUM FROM?????" (Where did God come from?)
Yep, not a small question from my small fry. Nope, not at all. Needless to say there were many quiet chuckles heard immediately afterwards, not to mention all eyes were on me to see what my response would be. I think I told him that "God is with us everywhere", and pretty much we got the heck out of Dodge. (Although my answer actually ended up being a good one. This past Sunday he came out of his little Sunday School class singing "God is with us everywhere, everywhere, everywhere", so it was pretty good timing nonethless!)
He also is very much into wooden blocks these days and likes to build houses for me. A little while ago I walked into the playroom to the shouts of "Suh-pise!" and found a "house" just for me (a tower of assorted blocks). He informed me that it was a house for me, Papa, himself, all five dogs, and all the Indians. Yes, my friends, apparently it is my son's desire that we live amongst a tribe someday. (I can only joke because I actually am a card-carrying tribal gal myself. Really. No jokes for this here pasty white girl.)
Last night's prayer was all about thanking God for "God, Jesus, and the bad guys". At least someone out there is praying for all the villians of the world.
And what would any little boy be without a deep-seeded, completely innate love for all things related to flatulence? Ahem. Yes, I may try my darndest to teach this boy manners, respect for adults and the female species, but by golly if he doesn't proclaim a very triumphant "Mmmmmmmmmm!!!!!!!! Wass tha smew?" (as in, "Mmmmmmmmm!!!!! What is that glorious scent?") and erupt into uncontrollable giggles after every fantastically loud toot that his three-year-old body produces. Of course, my husband, the ever-proud Papa, always joins in with the uncontrollable laughter.