Getting out of the car this morning, I told him to be careful because he was wearing his flip-flops. He slid, just a little, then said: That was a close one. Phew!
He yelled from downstairs (where he was alone with his brother and sister): Don't Worry Mommy! Which translates to "Now is the time to panic."
Looking through a toy catalog: You should buy this for the babies to play with. It was a large truck puzzle, something suitable for ages 4 and up.
Mommy, you need Mickey underwear like me. Let's get Daddy a pair too.
I'm four, Lexi is five, the babies are two. Mommy, you are four too.
I need all my friends to sleep with me. By friends, he is referring to all of the stuffed animals and toys in his room.
Every night before bed: Sleep tight, take care, good nite-nite. He actually came up with that one on his own.
Mommy works; grammy doesn't. Then we had a long discussion about how taking care of grandkids while mommy and daddy go to work IS work!
I'm going to sleep in a tent with Daddy and Lexi. In our backyard. But not with bugs.