When we pair socks together after doing laundry, in our home we call it “marrying socks”. Last night my 9-year-old asked if he could help me “marinate” them.
My four-year-old was ooh-ing and aah-ing away at the baby, and commented how the “baby was getting to know him.”
My 9-year-old decided he wanted to “help” me move the minivan out from the driveway, so he could use the Wave. I wasn’t sure, as he is getting big, that he’d even fit on my lap anymore. Sure enough, he did, but as I was backing up, begging asking him not to turn the wheel or make any sudden movements, before I finished my statement, he’d leaned too hard on my leg and we’re speeding out the driveway, my leg depressed way too hard on the gas pedal. ZHOOOOOM!! We go. ERRRRR!!!!!! Squealing the tires before ramming anyone. I immediately resume breathing and burst out ask he make no sudden movements. Ever. Again.
He giggles maniacally. “Heh, cool! I’m good at it, huh mommy?”
Oh brother. Here we go again.
My four-year-old and two-year-old decided to try to sing at the table, which included the alphabet and numbers, in both English and Spanish. Only my two-year-old confuses the two, and her siblings names in the mix, usually.
Two-year-old: “A.. D.. C… B…. E…. F…. G! AJ…. em-in-en-oh-pee… foowah (four), fize (five), seece (six), eweben (eleven), tewve (twelve), too-teen (thirteen), unteen (?lol), umteen (? again lol)… nominomin-me (next time won’t you sing with me).”
Four-year-old: “Uno, dos, tres, waffle…” and he erupts with laughter because he realizes he doesn’t know what ‘four’ is in Spanish and that he said waffle, so he doesn’t progress any further. (And to be honest, we’re all in tears, too).
Two-year-old: “Uno, dos, tays, nacho, seeko, seis, AJ, oto, wavy…”
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