Our Resident Comedian

Today

Thing 2 walks by looking adorable and I exclaim, "How did I get the cutest little boy in the whole world?!"

To which he responds, nonplussed, as he walked outside to play, "You growed him in your tummy."

Easter Sunday

So we do an Easter Egg hunt in the backyard, come back to the kitchen table, and count our loot. The kids get to choose 2 chocolates to eat before dinner.

Thing 1: Thank you, Mommy and Daddy!

Mommy: You’re welcome.

We look at Thing 2 expectantly who obliviously continues to count his loot.

Mommy, looking at Thing 2: You’re welcome, Thing 1 (well, I used her name, but you get the idea)!

Thing 2 looks at Mommy like she’s crazy.

Mommy, looking at Thing 2, repeats: Thank you for saying thank you, Thing 1. You’re very welcome, by the way. It’s so nice of you to say thank you, Thing 1!

Thing 2 looks at Mommy and wrinkles his nose and sneers slightly while furrowing his brow.

Mommy, still looking at Thing 2 trying to help him get the message, again says: You’re welcome, Thing 1!

Thing 2 gives his "what are you talking about" look again and exclaims, “I’m not Thing 1. SHE is!” and points at Thing 1.

Mommy: I know. I’m just saying it’s so nice of her to say Thank You. What do you think?

Thing 2: Oh! (Rummages through his loot.) I think I’ll have . . . a Krackel and . . . a Special Dark.

Daddy, jumping in to help: I think that Mommy is trying to get you to say thank you.

Thing 2: Oh. Thank you.

Later that night . . .

Thing 2 has this habit of asking, now and then, for more food before bed, mostly as a means to prolong bedtime. When we say no (on principle of hey, it’s bedtime—sometimes we do a bedtime snack when we’ve had an early dinner and are up late or something, but sometimes he’s simply trying to get away with staying up later), he can get highly dramatic (I thought this was a girl thing?).

He tried this tactic on Easter Sunday. Some of the things he called out from the stairs include:

I’m starving!
I’m so hungry, I’m starving!
My tummy hurts because it’s hungry!!
I think I need food! I can’t sleep without food!
I’m not going to bed, because I’m hungry!

(Meanwhile, Mark and I are in the living room, trying to watch Amazing Race and trying very hard to hold our ground.)

A little later, he bursts into the living room all indignant and points at his face and yells, “See!! A tear! That’s how hungry I am!”

We’re not giving in, Thing 2. Go upstairs and go to bed. Next meal is breakfast.

He stomps up the stairs screaming and crying.

More from stairway:

Screaming, crying,. . .

But I’m STARVING!!
I’m NOT going to sleep!
My tummy hurts!
I'm so hungry!!
That’s it! I’m going to go to the kitchen and make myself a snack.

(At this point, Mark looks at me and says, He better not. I don’t know what I’ll do if he tries that.)

I have tears!! I’m SO HUNGRY!!!!!!!!

Then he started to really turn on the melodrama:

I’m going to starve to death!

After a while (clearly we weren’t relenting), he calls out:

Daddy? One more thing. If you want to kill your son, FINE!

And then for emphasis:

In case you didn’t hear me . . . One more thing. If you want to kill your son, FINE!

Eventually he settled down and went to sleep. I couldn't resist sarcastically greeting him the next morning with, "Oh, I see you survived the night."

Never a dull moment.