Miss You, Too

A:  I want to go to Sassy's.
M:  We are going to go to Sassy's tomorrow.
A:  No, I don't want to go tomorrow.  I want to go now.
M:  We are going to Sassy's tomorrow, and you are going to stay with her for a few days.  Won't that be fun?
A: (pause)
A:  I might miss you.

Austin's Ad-libs

M:  Do you want spaghetti for dinner?
A:  NO.
M:  Do you want a hamburger?
A:  NO.
M:  Do you want couscous?
A:  NO.
M:  Do you want something yucky?
A:  Yeah.
M:  Do you want spinach?
A:  I don't like the spinach.
M:  Have you ever had spinach?
A:  No.
M:  Hmmm...Do you want a salad?
A:  No.  You need to eat the salad.  Salad is for girls. 

Austin's Ad-libs

Austin has started to present logical arguments.  Here are a few of the conversations I've had with him recently.

A:  We need to go to the grocery store.
M:  No, we don't need to go to the grocery store.
A:  Yes we do.  We need some food.
M:  We have food at home, baby.
A:  No we DON'T.  We are all out of food.
M:  No, we have fo...
A:  We DON'T have food.  I ate it ALL gone.


Austin was playing with some Lincoln logs and his horse on the changing table.

M:  Don't throw those sticks in the floor.
A:  Proceeds to drop each one of the Lincoln logs and slants a look at me.
M: Austin, I told you not to drop those sticks.
A:  I didn't drop them.  Little Red (the horse) dropped them.


M:  Austin, don't throw your legos. (as they crash to the ground and scatter).
A:  I didn't throw them.  They just crashed.

(This was some time ago...just before Christmas)

A:  Carry me.
M:  Austin, my arms are full.  I can't carry you.  You have to walk.
A:  I can't walk.  Carry me.
M:  Yes, you can walk.  Come on.
A:  I can't.  My tootsies don't work.

A Parent's Words

Austin pulled out his little yellow and orange laptop computer and started furiously typing away at the keys.  He looked at Daddy and said, "I'm working.  Just one minute, Daddy."



This morning, Austin was sitting at his new favorite seat on the kitchen counter with his oatmeal.

A:  I want bread.
M:  Okay.  Eat your oatmeal while I get you some toast.  (Since it was Saturday, I decided to do something special...maybe cinnamon toast.)
A:  I want bread.
M:  I know.  I'm working on it.
A:  (Noticing me putting the bread on a cookie sheet) I don't want french toast; I just want bread.
M:  This isn't french toast, baby.
A: (In a misunderstood, beleaguered, defeated voice)  I. Just. Want. Bread.
M: (pulling a slice out of the package and handing it to him) Here you go.

Partially because I hadn't had any caffeine and partially because it was such a funny little statement, I mumbled "I. Just. Want. Bread." as I walked away.

A:  What was that?
M:  That was Mommy whining.
A:  You just have to ask.
A:  You don't have to whine, Mommy.  You just have to ask.