CARES

The after school day care program at Edee's school is called CARES.  Apparently I'm the mom who doesn't care because Edee doesn't get to go.   She hears how fun it is from all her friends and feels it's pretty boring here at home in comparision.  I've had multiple conversations about it with her before about how the kids who go to CARES need to go there because both of their parents work, and since I don't work, there's no need for her to go.

She got her hopes up though when I almost missed picking her up from the bus.  The bus had already turned around and was coming back by our house, and we barely made it.  I had almost missed her once before and was berated severely by Edee because of it.  Not this time.  The response instead was: Awwww, Mom, I thought I was going to get to go the CARES today!  I was so excited!

Then later Chicken comes up to me and tells me that Edee was telling him to purposefully be slow coming down to pick her up from the bus so she could go to CARES.  Chicken adamantly insisted that he told her that he would NOT do that.

Oh Edee.

And another funny non-relating thing both of them have been saying:
instead of "making sure" to do something, they have been saying "make sure-ing."  It's cute.

Creepin' Up on You

We've been listening to the Troll's movie soundtrack at our house lately.  Chicken particularly likes the song "Can't Stop the Feeling" by Justin Timberlake.  This means that we listen to it every day. Lots of times every day.  Dozen of times every day.  I added it to Chicken's "Kids Fun" Playlist, which consists of all the songs he's obsessed with:  "Everything is Awesome", "Shatter Me", "Safe and Sound", "We Will Rock You", "Immortals", "Cinema".  And now "Can't Stop the Feeling".  It's too short of a playlist to listen to so often.

But they are his favorites, and try telling the four-year-old to branch out.

I'm talking about the song with Chicken.

Me:  Don't you think it's a little weird that he's saying that he's creeping up on you?
Chicken:  I taught it was sayin', "I dust cweepin' up on JUICE, so dust dance, dance, dance, dance."
(insert lisp for the 's' sound in 'dance').
Me:  Of course you thought that.  That's not nearly as creepy.
Chicken:  Sometimes, I fink it's saying, "I dust eatin' chips, so dust dance, dance, dance, dance."

Hmm.

It's a weird song either way.

But, I STILL DUST WOVE CHICKEN!  (So just dance, dance, dance, dance...)

Growing Up

Daddy:  Hey Mommy, look at this.  This little guy is so much taller than the counter.
Me:  What....couldn't he run right under that corner when we first moved in?  How did that happen?
Daddy:  He just keeps growing.
Me:  Stop that Chicken.  No more of that. It's not allowed.  Don't even think about growing anymore.
Daddy:  If you keep growing, we're going to have to send you to timeout.
Me: Yeah.  You'll have to stay in timeout until you decide to quit growing.
Chicken:  Hey!  Dat's not fair at all!  I only stop groween WHEN I'M DEAD!!
Daddy:  He's got a point.
Me:  Oh.  Well, I guess that's not very fair then.

I had to try.

Baby Eggs

Chicken:  Mom, I didn't know dat mommy's tummies are cut open for da baby to come out!!  It's not from da girl parts!

Edee:  Yeah Mom!  You were wrong!

Me:  What...who told you...well, sometimes that happens if the baby needs to come out quick.  It happens sometimes but usually not.

Chicken:  Edee, did you know dat dere's a tiny egg in da mommy's tummy?  Yeah, and den it hatches.

Me:  Well...er,no, it doesn't hatch, Chicken, it's more like it grows.

Chicken:  What?  I did not know dat. And den it EXPLODES!??

Me:  No...

Can you tell that Chicken has had a lot of questions about babies lately?  (Out of nowhere, might I add, I'm not pregnant, just for the record). And I'm thinking that a few of his friends are not giving him the most reliable information.  Just a taste of many future conversations, I'm sure.

Timeout

Chicken:  Mom, if somebody loves somebody, den dey don't want dem to go in timeout.  So if you love me, you won't ever want me to go into timeout.

Way to lay on the Mommy guilt, Chicken.