5-yr-old: (playing a game on his Leap Pad) kinda good ... still good.
I have a lot of strange conversations with my kids, most of the time initiated by me, because - and let's all be honest with ourselves - staying home with your children is boring as fuck most of the time. 85% of the job is making meals, cleaning up, moderating fights, undoing the curses you taught them, not leaving knives within reach and trying to keep them from breaking all your shit with the rubber balls your mother-in-law bought for them. You gotta make the remaining 15% interesting, or you'll bust out of your front door one day and never stop running, even if you hate running.
I have two boys, ages 4 & 5, and they are both very different humans. The older one is dramatic, neurotic and seems to prefer the truth. The younger one is affectionate, unbelievably loud and makes shit up all the time.
I can't decide which one is more fun to fuck with, because they have such different reactions.
4-yr-old: What happened to your socks? *points to the dirty soles*
Me: At night, when you're sleeping, they pop off my feet, crawl into your bed and suck on your bellybutton.
4-yr-old: Oh, yeah. *nods in agreement*
Me: Hey, pull up your shirt, let's see if your bellybutton is juicing right now.
4-yr-old: *lifts shirt* nope, no juicing.
Me (the next day): Did my socks get your bellybutton last night?
4-yr-old: Yes, but I made them go away.
5-yr-old: *says something about Peeps*
Me: You know, Peeps eat your bellybutton.
5-yr-old: No they don't!
Me: Yes they do! Why do you think we don't keep them in the house?
5-yr-old: No. *gestures to let me know that I'm a fool* People eat Peeps.
Me: Yeah, and when you do, they come out of your bellybutton!
Me: They totally do.
Husband: She's lying. Peeps don't eat your bellybutton.
Me: Can't I have any fun?
At this point, I walk into the kitchen to do something and hear Husband and son having a lengthy conversation about umbilical cords.
Also, I have no idea why I'm obsessed with things happening to my son's bellybuttons.
Like I said, my younger son is affectionate - affection he gives freely to everyone else on the planet but me. I have to work for it, apparently.
Me: Come here, let's have a cuddle.
4-yr-old: No. I'll cuddle you later. In the future.
Me: You always say that, and then you never do.
4-yr-old: I'm busy.
4-yr-old: I'll give you a quick hug. It's the best I can do.
I decided to start a conversation with them right now, because this blog entry is too short.
Me: I went to the store today and bought tampons and garlic powder. How do you feel about that?
4-yr-old: Good. It's good. I like garlic powder. I need my garlic powder.
Me: I also got, um ...
4-yr-old: *gasp* What else did you got!? What did you got at the store, mama?
(he's fucking with me. no one is ever this excited about what you got at Walgreens.)
Me: I got um, basil.
4-yr-old: Oh, basil!
Me: ... and decongestants.
4-yr-old: Oh, is that for eating?
Me: No, it's not for eating. What do people do with tampons?
4-yr-old: They're for eating too.
5-yr-old: What did you say, mom? What did he say?
(his super hero senses must have alerted him to absurdity being perpetrated)
4-yr-old: Audience is made of people. People who live and breathe.
Me: Oh ... kay ... (to 5-yr-old) do you have anything to add?
5-yr-old: Yeah. *clicks tongue twice* I'm going to add a Universal.
(oh, because that's not absurd.)