Him: “Mommy crushed my lifelong dream of being an astronaut”
Me: “Did you dream of being an astronaut?’ First time I’ve heard about it”
Him: “I don’t know, probably, maybe, I was four or five”
Him: “Mommy crushed my lifelong dream of being an astronaut”
Me: “Did you dream of being an astronaut?’ First time I’ve heard about it”
Him: “I don’t know, probably, maybe, I was four or five”
“Daddy, what happens when stuff goes haywire for a goat?”
“Baaaad things”
His current level of obsession with Dungeons and Dragons has me worried that, any day now, I will have to sit through a Powerpoint presentation on wizards.
“Daddy, what’s the po-po?”
No matter what the movie is, he can always think of a way it could be improved with explosions.
He has developed an interestingly unidirectional concept of sharing.
He has decided, based on no empirical evidence, that the dog is secretly an evil mastermind bent on world domination. He is certain that her getting her head stuck under the couch was just part of an elaborate cover.
In his favorite show there is a monster so scary that he has decided it can only be referred to as “Kevin” in conversation.
The honesty with which he answers questions regarding his mother’s outfit choices may not serve him well in the future.
He has decided that a couple of his stuffies now need tattoos.