Dear God, please don't let him find half a frog.

Jonah: "Mom? This pocket right here is sooo big, I bet I could fit a whole frog in there."

Maybe I should sew that one shut.

Wow. That's tall.

Jonah: "The trees at the cabin are almost as tall as God and Jesus stuck together."

Almost.

That long ago, eh?

Jonah: "WAIT! I have seen a rabbit before. It was at the pumpkin patch........ That was back when I had all my teeth."

I'm betting that won't be the last time he'll have to say that.

It's all about the lums, yo.

Mary-Beth: "When we cough or sneeze, really our lums are just squeezing the germs out. (nods, eyebrows up) They are."

I believe it, every word.

Overheard at the kitchen counter

Mary-Beth: Hey Jonah, let's play that you're a lousy doctor.
Jonah: Okay.... You? Are dead.

(That's lousy, alright.)

Jonah says we should move the toaster.

"We should put it over there (finger gun pointed at the coffee station) by the cinnamon and sugar. (shrug) Y'know, for when you're making toast. It'll be closer to the cinnamon and sugar. (shrug) Then you could put cinnamon and sugar on all the toast. (finger gun pointed at me)"

Why didn't I think of that?

Ask a stupid question...

Jonah: "I don't like green beans, Mom."

Me: "Really? Wow. Green beans rock! Why don't you like them?"

Jonah: "I think it's the beans part I don't like."

It's a man thing.

Jonah found out he was going to get to visit with my friend Debbie's son Emmitt (who is 13 years old and super fun) while I was out running errands. He said, "Ooh! Can I wear a baseball shirt? Cuz I wanna play football with Emmitt and (insert finger gun) have a race."

She's good at so many things.

Jonah and Mary-Beth were playing "Don't Laugh," a game during which you try to keep a straight face while the other person tells you not to laugh.

It's harder than it sounds. Go ahead and try it. Don't laugh! Don't do it. Don't you laugh!

See?

So Jonah had just lost at his turn and, at the end of his laughing fit, said, "Y'know, Hazel is REALLY good at this game."

Meet Hazel:

Fun sucker.

Jonah: I'm a snoooow! dinosaaaaaaur! Rrrrrrroooowwwwrrrrr!

(pause)

Mary-Beth: You're not even a snow man.

Alrighty then

I just had to tell Mary-Beth that lip gloss doesn't belong on her eyebrows. She disagreed. She's lucky that pink is her color.

More "don't ask don't tell"

I'm choosing not to pursue the facts regarding the orange peel I just found inside the boy's sock. I'm just.... not going to ask.

Don't ask, don't tell

A transformer in our neighborhood blew this morning. The noise of it drew us all outside to see what we could see. Dan said he'd seen a puff of smoke, I grimaced and said "Yikes. Must have been a squirrel." My niece Lily (Luke and Melissa's oldest) thought for a second, then looked up at me and said, "Do squirrels do that?"

It's got Mary-Beth all over it

I found this little poem while out on the interwebz searching for copywork quotes for Jonah. Who does this bring to mind?

Singing Time
by Rose Fyleman

I wake in the morning early
And always, the very first thing
I poke out my head and I sit up in bed
And I sing and I sing and I sing.

Your honesty is refreshing

Mary-Beth came to me this morning wearing her most innocent look. You know the one: the chin is pressed to the chest, the eyes are looking up at you over the glasses, the bottom lip is sticking out. That look. Knowing her as I do, and having seen that look before, naturally I smelled a rat.

Her: Mommy? Jonah almost throwed that car at me.

Me: Really? He almost threw that car at you?

Her: Yes, he did. He almost throwed that car at me and it keeps making me mad every day.

Me: Hmmm. Did he throw the car at you, or did he almost throw the car at you?

Her: He almost throwed it.

Me: Ah. Well, why would he throw a car at you? Did you throw a car at him?

Her: Yes, but I keeped missing him.

Now we're getting to it.

Who asked you?

Mary-Beth: Mommy? When I'm 7 years old, will my feet touch the floor when I'm on the toileeyet (toilet)?

Me: Yes, I'm almost sure of it.

Mary-Beth (after a pause): Mommy? How old are you?

Me: Thirty-eight.

Mary-Beth: Wow! That's a loooooong time ago!

At least she knows the right answer

Me: Mary-Beth, are we supposed to put the whammy bar up our nose?
Her: Nnnnnnnegative.

That takes care of that

Mary-Beth (in a voice so low it's almost a whisper): Mommy? There was a ear twig crawling by my toes on the ground over outside by the garden.

Me: Oh, you know that ear wigs can't hurt you, right? Did you walk away from him?

Mary-Beth (same low whispery voice): No. I killed him with a shubble.

That'll work.

That might be a problem.

(Jonah, calling from his room to Mary-Beth's room.)
Mary-Beth!..... Will you come help me organize?

(Mary-Beth, calling back in a sing-song'y voice.)
Nooooooo.

(Long pause, then Jonah again.)
Mommy? Will you come help me organize? Because I don't know what "organize" means.

"Mommy? Swinging high on the swings is a weally. impoh-tant. job."

For the record, she should get paid for it. She's weally. weally. good at it.