He's feeling his oats, got a bit of a swagger to his step, is taking charge and is not afraid to let you know it. He's also about 6 weeks away from being three years old.

This weekend, he says to his mother:

"Mamma, go sit couch. You in time out. You trouble!"

Last night, getting ready for bed, it was my turn:

BC: Pappa, you no drink my milk. You drink my milk, police come, take you away put you in jail.

Me: Why would they put me in jail?

BC: You drink me milk, you get sick. [Looks defiantly at me and says with emphasis] That is mine reason.

Me: Got it. Don't drink your milk. Check.

Also, two nights ago, we had the following exchange:

Me: Boy Child, do not push your sister off that stool! You could hurt her!

BC: [Outrage written all over his face; shaking his finger at me for emphasis] NO. SAY. THAT. WORD. ME!!!!

Me: What word, honey? What word are you objecting to?

BC: [Intense concentration, pause] Me no know what word. Me no ha'member.

Me: Well, if you can't tell me the word, how can I not say it?

BC: [sighs dejectedly] Me know.

I think its gonna be a long ride. Fun, but long.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:33 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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