We had a four-and-a-half birthday celebration in our house last week. We do not customarily celebrate half birthdays, but this little guy had been anticipating this day for so long that we couldn't resist.
In honor of this milestone, here are some recent "Evan-isms" to add a little levity to your day. I have been thinking of collecting these into one place sort of like my friend Elephant's Child has done with her daughter's memorable pronouncements, but for now there are other more pressing items on the "to do" list. So without further delay, here is a look at the world through Evan's four-and-half-year-old eyes.
"Mommy, do you sleep with Daddy?"
"Yes, honey, I sleep with Daddy."
"Can I sleep with you, too?"
"Well, it would be a little crowded. Mommy and Daddy's bed really just has enough room for two."
"Could we get a three-room bed someday?"
"Evan, don't stick your finger in the butter."
"I was only petting it."
"Mommy, here's a piece of candy for you."
"Honey, I don't really want that piece of candy. You had it in your mouth already."
"I was just keeping it warm for you."
"Mommy, Daddy is the choir's pastor."
"Evan, are you sure you're hungry enough for a whole sandwich?"
"I can eat it in pieces."
"Evan, we're celebrating Ascension today. We're going to have a party at church with games and songs and food and a parade . . . "
" . . . and soccer?"
"Evan, please don't feed Shiloh [our beagle] too many treats. She's going to get fat."
"Like Pastor?"
After being taken to Quizno's for supper by his dad: "Mommy, we ate at a nose restaurant tonight!"
3 comments:
Oh, my! WHY do I always read your blog when I'm in the library? You need to tone down the hilarity of your posts, ma'am. The pastor-isms are the best.
petting the peanut butter, eh?
::snort::
So, does the third weekend in July 2028 work for you guys? (For the wedding of our lovely children, don't you know!)
EC, your comment is a bit frightening for two reasons. First there is the thought of these two living in the same house. Butter and ladybugs beware! Second is the thought of how old we will be in 20 years. Or maybe I should speak for myself. I'll be ready to retire, but you'll still be in the footloose fifties!
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