Randoms

-Declan got out of the bathtub and wanted to comb his hair. I stood at the counter and watched him as he swept it this way and that, trying to find that certain je ne sais quoi. He got frustrated and I asked him what the problem was. "I don't like the sprouts." Your guess is as good as mine as to what the sprouts actually are, but they were making him *mad*. He wanted spikes, not sprouts. I told him that because his hair is kind of curly, it won't do straight spikes unless it's a lot shorter. We agreed to get him a haircut this weekend.

For the time being, he wanted to figure out a cool hairstyle, so I gave him a few minutes to figure it out. When I went back, I asked him how it was going and his response was that it still wasn't looking how he wanted it to. I asked what it was in particular he was thinking he could get it to look like. "Like it has fire. Like the tips of my hair are flames of fire." Words failed me; genetics failed him.

-Apparently the bus driver calls Declan "Little Logan" or "Little [Last Name]". For some reason that I can't articulate in any way, every time I think of that, I start giggling to myself. It makes me happy.

-Logan's been chugging along happily in school and doing very well. He's one of two kids in his class who have completed all 25 of his word lists for the year and is rocking the socks off his math progress. He loves school and at the same time loves his days off school. It's a contrast to Declan, who's made a visit to the principal's office two out of three days so far this week. Note: The third day was a snow day.

Things kids say

Over dinner the other night, Declan was being Declan and relaying every thought that came through his head to the rest of the family. Things like, "Socks go in between shoes and feet" and "Sometimes dogs are brown." When Declan took a bite of his bread and butter and then announced to us, "I like bread," Logan said in a very dry, monotonous manner, "That's a great story."
________

Recently Andrea made french dip sandwiches for Sunday dinner and after Declan was done eating, he walked up to Chris and said proudly (with a fabulous gesture that I wish I could express in words), "I almost barfed, but then I sucked it back up!"
________

DECLAN: I don't like wearing those things.
ME: What things?
DECLAN: Pants and shirts.
(This particular announcement after I found him in the kitchen completely naked.)

Testicles

A long time ago when Logan was 3ish, he was standing in the kitchen naked from the waist down. I don't remember the reason for the occasion, but if you know my boys at all, that's not a surprise. He was chitchatting with me and absent-mindedly feeling his parts. He then asked one of the funniest questions in my memory of my kids: "Mommy, what are these stripey things between my legs?" I've heard/read/been told the best way to handle these situations is give correct answers to the exact question a child asks - no more, no less. So I responded that they were testicles. After a minute of thought he asked what they were for, and the best answer I could come up with on the spot was something along the lines of: "When you grow up and decide you want to be a daddy, they'll help you make babies." Fine and dandy. Life went on.

Except.

Somewhere in the course of time, Logan relayed this particular information to Declan. Apparently we played a short game of telephone with it because one day recently Declan told me - out of nowhere - that those ball things between his legs were his babies and when he grows up he's going to have two babies because he has two of those. After dropping the 411 on me, he walked away to continue his life and I was left to consider his (and Logan's) interpretation of the issue. I decided it was best to let them continue with this misinformation since it's not hurting anyone, it's close enough to the truth, and they're too young to really have any sort of talk that will actually explain the facts. We're not ready for details.

Fast forward to tonight after dinner. Logan was adjusting himself and I asked him if there was a problem with his wing ding since he was needing to do that near the table? He said, in a voice *dripping* with know-it-all attitude that a 7-year-old can manage as well as a teenager, "Those things that are my babies? They're sticking to my leg and I'm trying to unstick them."