Great Escape!

Walking Boy home from school today, I was bent near double trying to follow his story about being waylaid after delivering the lunch orders to the canteen. I *think* the girl he went with went AWOL and he had to go to the teacher and let her know. But I'm not sure. I just nodded and said oh, ok. Which is what I say when I can't really follow what he's saying but I've already asked him for clarification three times and it's not any clearer.

After dinner, he announced that tomorrow he was going to escape from school via underground tunnel. He would burrow down deep under ground with little "pop ups" along the way, starting in the sand pit and going under the footpaths all the way to the city. And then he'd come back again in time for lunch.

We expressed some concern about him disappearing.

He reassured us that he wouldn't burrow down too deep.

We pointed out that the teachers would be worried if they couldn't find him.

He said he was just exaggerating! He'd just go from one end of the sand pit to the other.

Give the Boy a medal

I've invented a new Olympics sport. 
First, you have to run really fast around and around three times so that the ninja fish can't bite you.
And then you have to kick the slidden fish. The slidden fish is dead.

Further details are still quite confused at this point.

Daddy's trying to figure out how you win. But you know you're finished when the ninja fish is dead. There's also a ninja tower, which attacks the dead fish. And then says sorry.

The ego is strong with this one

Boy is all about Boy. What Boy wants. What Boy does not want. No one else really enters into it.

Want Boy to do something? You'd best devise an explanation for how it's really in his best interest.

Sometimes I manage that, but sometimes....

"Then I will just call my monkey crew. And they will throw bananas at anyone who tries to make me do what I don't want to do."

Oh. Imaginary monkeys throwing imaginary bananas. I'm scared.

"No. They're REAL! I call them up then they come through the phone."

Uh huh.

"They come through the phone with a ginormous box of bananas. And they throw them round all over the place."

Keep a lid on it

Boy: Have you heard about bottom lids?
Me: Errrr. No.
Boy: Well, unfortunately, you know some people have a chemical in their bottoms. And they need to filter it out.
Me: Right.
Boy: So they need a bottom lid on their bottom. To filter out the chemicals.
Me: Oh.
Boy: And they have to keep it on for TWO days. And they have to strap it on over their bottom cheeks.
Me: ......
Boy: Do you want to see a picture of someone with a bottom lid that I drew?

.... do you?

Sweet dreams are made of these...

As you may know, Boy has quite an imagination. He's had some very interesting dreams at times.

The ones that really stand out in my memory are the nightmares, though.

My inconsolable Boy yelling "I want my HEEEEAAAAARRRRRT!" "I want my HEEEEAAAAARRRRRT!" really upset me.

Then Daddy asked me what he wanted his hat for. What a relief! And that made much more sense (sort of).

"I don't like CORN RIIIIIIICE."

This was easier to interpret - too much risotto Mummy.

And, then, last night I heard my Boy sobbing in his sleep. Whatever was wrong this time?

"I overloaded my engines!"

Apparently he was dreaming about Thomas the Tank Engine.

Out of the blue

Boy wanted to know why the air isn't coloured.

I pondered this a moment, then proposed that it would  make it pretty hard to see things if it weren't transparent. He agreed. "We'd just keep bumping into things!"

"Yes, so isn't it good that it's not coloured?" Well, actually, no.... he wants it blue.

He ran off to get his Blue-enator and some super-duper dye to fix this problem.

Stay tuned....

Amazing news

Boy had his BFF from school over the other day. His little mate is obsessed with the Titanic, while Boy is obsessed with emergency & rescue workers (amongst other things).
So, naturally, they fished from the top of his play tower for wreckage from the post-iceberg Titanic.


They had some rather exciting finds....


Later in the day, Boy "telephone-called" his grandmother to tell her this important news and instruct her in what she needed to do.


This is her "work":


All media outlets have been notified of the amazing find of penis and bone parts  - of Titanic victims. Truly remarkable that it was found inland quite some distance - and continents and oceans -from anywhere close to where Titanic ever journeyed.............and that is was scientifically identified by two 4 year olds!

The world is gob smacked!


Yes. Penis.*


Really I don't know why.






*Could have been worse.

Magical Mystery Tour....

.... into the mind of Boy.

Today's quiz - what is this a picture of?
*Hint - this collection of items represents the tools of the trade for a particular line of work.

Double bonus points if you can correctly identify the purpose of each item

I just called to say I need some wood

Mummy, make the numbers. I wanna call the police. My car got broken

This is what the police lady says: Please check the number before trying again.

The other day Boy called our local medical centre. He was blabbering away as usual – something about wanting some “Big, tiny, long, smooth wood. You know the one, it’s white. Do you have it? Ok. Yes, I need some of that big, tiny, long, smooth wood. Ok?” – when Granma suddenly realised there was actually someone on the line. Whoops.

But it’s ok, because a few days later he got a hold of the phone again and called The Fat Controller (aka Granma, or in this case, her assistant, Grandad) and asked for some more wood – “You know, the long, smooth, white stuff”.

A few of my favourite things

But mummy, can you say yes if I say TV?

Soooo, in theory we like to restrict television time. Sadly the reality is that Boy watches rather more than I'm comfortable with. He has declared it his most favourite thing in the whole world.

But on the plus side, I'm his most favourite lady in the whole world. 

It seems, though, the more TV he watches, the more his whining for it intensifies. And if I say no, he asks his dad, his grandparents, his uncle, his sister even - "But mummy, Justababy said I could watch tv".

He used to take a fairly strategic (for a 3 year old) approach:

What can I do...?
You can go and play.
No! I can't play.... Can I watch tv?
No, not now.
So.... I can watch TV?
...No, not today I said.
Mummy... Can I watch TV on the 'puter?
No, not today. Ok?
Umm...yes.... I think I can watch TV after we go to the shops. Are we going to the shops now mummy?
 Now he's going for the sledgehammer approach:

Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV? Mummy, can I watch TV?

Sharpest tool in the box

Mummy, you can use my tools, but only when I there. You have to be careful though, because some of them are sharp.

The Boy just loves his tools. And he's dead keen on Bunnings*. Bunnings is Daddy's fallback position - any time Boy is difficult or Daddy needs a break (or rather, Mummy needs a break and Daddy's not sure what else to do) they head off to pick up some "bits and pieces". Sometimes Boy insists we need to go the Bunnings at other times - I just need to pick up a couple of things from Bunnings Mummy - but it's not really my thing.
On a recent little trip there Boy came back with his latest tool (it's funny how often Daddy comes back with nothing) - little plastic steps.
Brilliant!
Now Boy can reach up all the really high places.
Didn't think that through, sorry, says Daddy.
Look. I am standing up here and fixing the wall, says Boy. Then he drags his steps over to the sliding glass door and climbs up.
Look! Look out there! There are hyenas in the distance!
Uh huh, hmmm. [Mummy and Daddy are trying to have a conversation about appropriate toys for 3 year olds.]

Don’t just stand there looking miserable and not talking to me about the hyena!

* Daddy would prefer he didn't know the name and insists on calling it the tool shop. Boy doesn't miss much though.