Please, God...Send Me Understanding and Patience

~  Found my 6-year-old in the backyard wearing nothing but his socks and his Clone Wars underwear....sliding on the slip-and-slide....in 60-degree weather.

~   I've had the same conversation with the Short One nearly every dang night....
"Mom, do I need to take a shower?" 
"Yes." 
"OK....Mom? Do I need to take my underwear off?" 
"Do you often take a shower with your underwear on?" 
"No." 
"Well, then....." 

~   I can't seem to convince the Wee One that even though there aren't Muppets on the screen right this minute, I swear I did NOT switch the TV away from "Sesame Street". The Letter of the Day skit with George from 'Gray's Anatomy' is still Sesame Street. Honest.

~   Me: "Where's the Wee One?" 

    Short One: "He's inside his lion." 

    "He's WHERE?!" 

    "Inside his lion." (NOTE: the Wee One's 'lion' is a giant, barrel-shaped contraption that holds all      his umpteen million stuffed animals.) 

    "Where are the animals that belong in his lion?!" 

    "Oh, he put them all in his bed." 

     

     Someone just shoot me now.

~   Told the Wee One once that it was "Pajama Day" at preschool, so he needed to go pick out a clean pair of pj's to wear. You would've thought I offered to douse the child in gasoline and set him on fire. 

~   The Wee One presented his father with a plate from his play kitchen that had three, life-sized, rubber lizards stacked on it. Dr. Husband took the plate, but returned a rather puzzled, blank look. To which the Wee One replied, "Don't worry -- there's salt and pepper on it."

~   The Wee One, upon coming into the house with muddy jeans, muddy hands, and muddy hair: "Mom, a big puddle of rain jumped on me."

~   The Short One wants to see the newest "Twilight" movie. And the previous three (or is it four?). And he's informed me that Stephanie Meyer vampires are "super cool and awesome", and Bram Stoker has no idea WHAT he's talking about.

FAILFAILFAILFAILFAIL.

~   Conversation between my son and my husband, explaining why the child's clothing was covered in mud...
Short One: I got my skateboard, ran down the hill, and jumped, with the skateboard on my stomach, and landed on the hill and slid down.  
Dr. Husband: So...you skateboarded down a hill?!  
Short One: NOT ON MY FEET! Geez, are you crazy?! I could get killed that way!

How silly of us to think otherwise...

~   Apparently, the kid-translation of "The Wee One has to leave for t-ball in about ten minutes" is "Get as freakin' far away from the house as you can without telling your parents where you're going." 

~   Really, Wee One? The dime-sized scrape on your knee is hardly worth the hysterics. Could you at least bleed if you're going to make a noise that sounds as if someone is removing a limb with a dull spoon?