The title pretty much says it all, and as I haven’t finished baby books for either of my children I’ll consider this the next best thing. I promise, quotes have been recorded as delivered, likely within minutes of actual origination.
“Eliott, did you have any friends in your class this morning?”
“Yeah! There was the boogery one and the not-boogery one.”
Oh how I wish I could use such description in my personal life without offending anyone.
Eliott is learning to rhyme: “Napkin. Mapkin. Slap him.”
“Hey mom, you know what I’m feeding Lamby Lamb? Apple juice, green grass, and beer.”
Lucky Lamby Lamb.
M (losing patience): Eliott, are you brushing your teeth?!
E: No. I’m figuring.
M: Figuring WHAT?!
E: I’m trying to figure out how Jesus had a son named God.
“We got to have the ABC’s cereal, with the little marshmallows. But no milk.”
I can’t decide if it’s cute that my child has no idea what Lucky Charms are, or just sad.
Eliott’s version of Twisted Sister (a non-conformist in the making): “YES. We’re gonna take it! YES, we’re gonna take it! Anymore…”
Every time we get in the car my 4-year old requests Amy Macdonald on the radio, to which her sister always replies (singing), “E-I-E-I-O.”
M: Eliott, if we make chocolate pudding tonight, there won’t be any more milk for breakfast tomorrow.
E: Mommy, I would like to have water with my breakfast. Does that sound fine? That sounds fine with me.
Carter’s official first sentence: “I want this.” Let it be said, she knew before she was 2.
Elmo is making cupcakes on Dr. Oz. Carter’s head is exploding.
Despite my pseudo death-lessons through balloons and refrigerator pictures, I’m just not ready to explain Bambi’s mom to Eliott.
Introspective Eliott: “If Carter dies, we might have to get a dog or a kitty cat.”
E: Anji’s skinny, Dragon’s skinny, Uncle Daniel’s skinny…
M: Am I skinny?
E: No. You are not skinny. Daddy’s skinny.
M: What does skinny mean, Eliott?
E: It means you have hair on your back.
“Hey Mom, you are fat as Jesus.” -Eliott Wait for president-
“I did not steal Carter’s money. I’m sharing all the money.” Eliott understands Socialism.
My neighbors are outside putting together a new basketball hoop as a family. Eliott just came in the front door and announced (unprompted), “Mom, that’s the Evil Stepmother out there.”
E: In one month it will be summer?
E: That means, no more Clemmons house?
M: No. That means no more pre-school.
E: No more PRE-SCHOOL!? Oh no! I’m gonna die!
That makes two of us.
Eliott: But I don’t like being good, Mommy. I like being naughty.
Me: Why do you like being naughty?
Eliott (eyebrows shooting up and a crazy smile crossing her face): Because it’s fun! Being good is not fun. And we have no fun toys.
E: Well, then I smelled this one bathroom and it wasn’t even stinky. It smelled like princess.
M: What does princess smell like?
E: It smells like, good. It smells like steak.
Coming home from a week at Grandma’s house = “All my toys! I missed these so much!” (Not going anywhere in a hurry today. More coffee? Sure, would love some…)
When I walked into her room this morning, Carter’s exclamation could be interpreted in one of two ways: “I toot!” or “I two!” Given that today is July 7th, I’m going with the latter. Happy Birthday Big Girl.
Made it to Knoxville despite the 4 going on 74 year old in the seat behind me announcing through every downpour, “We never should have left our house tonight.”
Watching Robinhood or “Robin Neighborhood,” according to Eliott, who can’t understand how Prince John is a “boy queen.”
Discipline Tactic #14: “Child. DO you want a beating?!”
Carter Translation: “Bandaid? I need Bandaid.”
Child pooped on my foot this morning. That was a first.
Had to change my directions to the ever specific: Stop. Touching. People. Period.
Eliott at CVS: “Hey mommy, are these ear drops?” (Holding up a value pack of enema kits.) “It says you can either do them with your bottom up, or your bottom down.”
As Eliott brags to the older neighborhood kids about her new ability to ride a two-wheeler, she seems blissfully unaware that her shoes are on the wrong feet.
Eliott’s teacher when I picked her up at preschool this morning: “So, did Eliott dress herself today?”
Wondering what’s wrong with the Hawaiian dress and jean jacket I mumble a tentative yes, question-mark.
Teacher: “It seems she forgot to wear her panties to school.”
Things you might find yourself doing as a mother: reaching a gloved hand into the toilet because your 4 year old has informed you she thinks a toy just came out of her bottom.
You know you’re a good parent when your children fight over who gets to pray at dinner.
“I’m a grown up. I’m practicing being a grown up,” Eliott said as she worked with her plastic fork and knife. Then, with that ever smug glaze in her eyes (knowing she was doing something so grown up) she started belting out a tune from Yo Gabba Gabba.
Dinner table wedding discussion: “I can’t believe at Erica’s party that Dragon took Erica’s underwear off and just threw it. To all the people. Yeah. I can’t believe that he did that.” – Eliott Wait
When she’s wearing jeans, Carter frequently experiences moments of frustration confusing her fly for a 3rd pocket.
How’s this for honesty?
“I bite Diego nipple.” -Carter Wait, after church.
Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” comes on the radio and Carter starts cracking up. Then, from the backseat she starts singing, “Ba Ba- Booger Face.”
You have not known frustration, until you have attempted to put mittens on a 2 year old and gloves on a 4 year old, and actually get all the fingers in their correct places.
At the drive-thru to get my buy one get one Starbucks special and Carter yells from the backseat to the window (with authority): “I want chicken-uggets and chock-it milk!” She then repeated chocolate milk at least four times, emphasis on “chock-it” each time.
My genius 2 year old: Last night at dinner, Carter looked at Grandma Wait and said, “Grandma. You not boss!” She then smacked Grandma’s hand like a mommy disciplining a child. It took her point two seconds to realize her mistake and immediately recovered by smiling and announcing, “High five?”
Eliott: Mommy, I need to send Peyton a message tomorrow.
Me: Oh. You want to write him a letter?
Eliott: Yes, and do you know what the letter will be?
Eliott: E. But I need to send Peyton a message tomorrow too.
Before soccer practice:
Daddy: Okay, when you take their ball away, then what do you do?
Eliott: Say sorry.
It seems my daughter has inherited her father’s body and her mother’s brain.
Carter finishes singing in her pre-school Christmas program, comes back to sit with me and announces to a silent congregation from the second row: “Mommy. Let me see your nipples.”
On Christmas: The most fought over toy of the year has to be the Dirt Devil Jr I found on Craigslist last summer for about $5. Eliott was found down on her hands and knees just before church yesterday, “cleaning” under the stove with the hose attachment. Santa-mom wins again.
Dad: Eliott, you are getting so tall. You have to stop growing.
Eliott: No! I need to keep growing. That’s how life works.
Dad: But I like you small. Will you stay small for me?
Eliott: Well, no, I want to be tall. I want to be able to reach things without using stools all the time.