Just because everyone tells me I should write it down.

I'm always talking about how funny and smart my kids are. Because I intend to publish this to Blurb for my own records, I thought I would use this opportunity to follow advice and actually write some of the things my kids do down.

We'll start with Matthew.

We say that Matthew is a smart kid. We admit we've got a bit of bias built into the statement, but then he'll do something to prove the point to us. He can read. Yes, read. Not like "See Spot Run." Like "What does Philosopher mean?" when reading the cover page of Harry Potter...for the FIRST time. So when he was at school in the fall, learning new letters was no big deal for him. But then, this happened.

"What letter did you learn at school today, Matthew?"
"G. You know what a great G word is, Mommy?"
"Tell me, Matthew." Thinking he'll say GREAT, or maybe giraffe.
"Glockenspeil."
"Uh." Stunned silence. "Pardon?"
"Glockenspeil. It's kind of like a xylophone, but it's metal and a xylophone is wooden."
"Oh."

Then, after telling him we were moving near the ocean.
"You know what, Mommy?"
"What, honey?"
"Pepper water would make whales sneeze."
Giggles by Mommy.
"Seriously, that's why they live in salt water. So it won't make them sneeze."
"Yes, Matthew, you are right."

Then, Sebastian. Oh, Sebastian. Everything he does is funny in some way or another. When asked what he ate for lunch, everyday he answers "MEATBALLS." Then he laughs. Same thing, every single day.

Then, when caught red-handed making trouble (climbing on the kitchen counter, for example), he turns and looks, blinks a couple of times as if to say "who me?" then says: "I love you, Mommy. Hug?"

Today at a birthday party, there was candy. Of course there was; it was a birthday party. While eating a row of those little sweet tarts, I gave him some, then took the rest away. "They're all gone, Sebastian. That's the last one."
"Okay, Mommy."
I continue a conversation with someone and do not notice Sebastian going to the corner of the room to get a step stool. In the process, he trips over it, bonks his head at least 2x. I ask what he's doing. "Nothing." Back to it.
He pushes the step stool up to the counter where I am standing, climbs the stool, puts his hand in my pocket, pulls out the candy and says:
"See? Not all gone, Mommy. Not all gone. Right here. I put them in my mouth." I can't argue with him. So much determination went into it.

I'm sure there will be many stories that make me laugh and some that make me want to cry (you know, the frustrating ones). I'll start writing them down. All of them. Just to let you know my family may be crazy, but we're fun!