And Even More Statements of Epicness!

Husband Dear has two baseball caps he wears on a regular basis.  One he wears to and from work, to run errands, and so forth.  The other he wears only when working on his precious MGB.  Oh, I haven't told you about the MGB?  Some other time.  This post is about hats.  And hair.

He had to do some work on this lovely, yet complete PITA of a car, and went to find the hat he wears while he works on it, but it was missing!  Dun dun duuuuuuun!  He went out to work on it anyway, without his hat.

Now, here's what you have to understand.  Husband will eventually have no hair.  It's just a fact.  He's been losing hair since he was a teenager, and recent times, he's losing hair at a faster rate.  His bald spot in the back is expanding to meet his receding hairline in the front.  No big deal; we both knew it was coming.  However, Little Viking has just noticed this.  As Husband bent down to look in his toolbox, Little Viking exclaimed, "Dad!  Your hair is disappearing!"

We had a good laugh and thought that was the end of it...until the next day.

I had just dropped Philosopher Child off at school and was walking home with Little Viking, who was busy chattering.

"Dad's hair is disappearing because he didn't wear his hat," he said.

"That has nothing to do with it," I explained.  "It's not because of his hat.  Dad's just losing his hair.  Eventually, he'll look like Grandpa."

"Oh.  Well, how does it grow back?"

"Usually, it doesn't."

A mild look of panic spread over his face.

"But your hair grows back," I hastily added.  I could see he was thinking about all the hair that has ever fallen off of his head.

Hey, who's up for some hair-falling-out nightmares?  I'm pretty sure that's coming now.

Factoad

Factoad: noun. A fact applied in the completely wrong place. (Like when people call a toad a frog. Get it? No?)

Ah, my boys. The sponges. They absorb seemingly massive amounts of information. You know, when they want to. Lately they have been all about nature and animals.

I'll be honest, I don't remember which little monkey this statement came from, but I think it was Philosopher Child. Either way, it goes right up there with other epic statements.

"Did you know that you would stay warm in winter because you have a layer of fat?"

I explained that I'm not a bear, but deep down, well... ouch.

More Statements of Epicness

Ah, construction vehicles. An endless source of fascination and entertainment for countless children. It's no wonder kids love them. They're big, they're loud, and they make things.

Little Viking wanted to explain one he saw but didn't quite have the vocabulary. "I saw a mint truck. It poured out oil."

"A mint truck that pours out oil?" I asked. At this point I was picturing some sort of candy truck that dispenses mint flavored oil. Well, that can't be right, I thought.

Philosopher Child patiently intervened. "He means he saw a cement truck."

"Oh," I said. That made more sense.

Statements of Epicness Part...whatever this part is

Just today, I heard from my darling boys two gems.

Viking Toddler: "Nuts are icky. Pee nuts. It's their name. Pee nuts."

and...

Philosopher Child: "I want to watch Star Trek. The one with Shreck."
Me: "You mean Spock?"
Philosopher Child: "Yeah, Spock."

Statements of Epicness Part II

Part I here.

You know what's fun? Kids (Sometimes. OK, often. Most of the time. When nothing is breaking and no one is yelling at you). You know what's even more fun? When kids don't know what to call something and they try to use descriptive terms to get the point across.

The other day, Viking Toddler was tired and he yawned. Only, as really odd as it may sound, he didn't know the word, "yawn." Clearly, I have failed. He's got a nice vocabulary, but apparently I've neglected to teach that one.

Anyway, he wanted to tell me he yawned, but not having the word, he instead said, "I have tired in my mouth."

Makes sense, I guess.

Statements of Epicness

You saw a few days ago when I wrote about a rather lovely epic statement that Philosopher child made. Now here's some more STATEMENTS OF EPICNESS (picture me saying that in the weird echo-y voice of Pigs in Space).

Philosopher Child: "Look at the size of this WORM!!!"

Viking Toddler: "He's trying to take my brain!"

Husband: "I want some egg nog."
Me: "Don't they have any at the store this week?"
Husband: "No. It's made of unobtanium."

Viking Toddler: "I'm walking like a talking fish!"

Me: "Your teacher says you're mumbling. She can't hear you when you read or when you try to talk to her."
Philosopher Child: "I don't mumble."
Me: "Yes, you do." (This is just a fact.)
Philosopher Child: "There's something wrong with her hearing."

Viking Toddler (while holding up some apples): Look! I'm an apple tree!