mlog

Miles has learned the word killing. He learned it from Charlie Brown, who also says stupid a lot. Miles understands that stupid is not a nice word. In fact, one of his catchphrases these days is “Zoe doesn’t say stupid any more.” We have stopped trying to decode that little John-from-Cincinnati-style nugget.

He still doesn’t know the word gun. I’m not sure why we believe this protects him somehow. He’s seen other boys with toy guns, but Miles thinks these are tools for putting out fires. He will aim something at me and say, “Daddy–I’m firefighting you!”

Miles has a classmate named Elizabet, which sounds like “a little bit” to him. He thinks it’s a scream to ask for Elizabet of this or that. So, here’s Elizabet of stuff heard from Miles this week:

You’re pink chocolate and I’m brown chocolate.

I have a baby in my tummy. Her name is Zara.

With all of us in bed one morning:
I’m lying here between two clowns.

After I brought him a sandwich and a cup of milk:
I didn’t order this!

Last night I started wondering if our sugar-fascism with Miles is too much.

We were reading a counting book before bed. Each page has a number and a flap hiding that many whatevers.

me: 7…
miles: 7!
me: 7 what, buddy? (lifting flap)
miles: 7 snakes!
me: 8…
miles: 8!
me: 8 what, bear? (lifting flap)
miles: 8 beads!

The “beads” were donuts!

A couple of weeks ago we went to a birthday party. There was a piñata and Miles collected a little bag of candy and toys. We put the bag high on the counter and let him have a dum-dum a day if things were going well.

A few days in, he had a “mystery” flavored lollipop. Some time passed, I was preoccupied but then I suddenly noticed the Silence of Trouble. I skulked around the house until I found him in the kitchen, tiptoed on his stool, fiendishly rifling through the bag of candy on the counter.

it was very hard for me not to laugh. “Whatcha doing, buddy?” He shouted and I saw a flash of “Busted!” in his eyes, but then he crumpled his little face and looked down. He shook his head and said, “I not feel good, Daddy.”

A little bit of stuff heard from Mile this week:

No, it’s MY-ami!
Is that my black penis?
What I’m gonna get?

Jessica was explaining to Miles that a brother is a boy and a sister is a girl. She asked if he’d like a brother or a sister and what their names might be.

jess: What would be a brother’s name?

miles: Procolat Ochiki.

j: What would be a sister’s name?

m: Chocolat Ochiki.

Sorry, Porter and Powder.