1. Rocco, noticing dust in the sunlight for the first time: Mom! Why are all those crumbs in the air?
2. Girl: Dad, can we go to McDonald’s after camp today?
Dad: No. If you eat too much McDonald’s you die. It’s true—there’s a movie about it.
Me to Girl, conspiratorially: But when you’re an adult, you can go to McDonald’s as much as you want!
Girl, mournfully: Yes, but when you’re an adult you don’t LIKE going to McDonald’s!
3. Rocco is in his “Daddy is a Disease” phase where I am the only one worthy enough to change his clothes, fetch his milk, buckle him in the car, tuck him in bed, and wipe poop off his bottom. Seriously–he will stand in the bathroom naked, waiting 20 minutes for me to finish a bath so I can then come wipe his butt if Dad is the only alternative butt-wiper on hand.
It’s really quite an honor.
The other day Kevin wanted to let me sleep in, so when he heard Rocco stirring he went to get him up. Here’s how it went:
Kevin entered Rocco’s line of site.
Dad: Shh, Rocco, Mom’s sleeping. Can I read your favorite book to you?
Dad: Shhh. Maybe I could make you chocolate chip pancakes?
Rocco: NO! I want Mamba!*
Dad: Could I play trains with you? Wrestle? Give you a hug?
Rocco, sighing, “Dad, this just isn’t working."
*Mamba is the kids’ nickname for me.