A couple of days ago as Rob pulled onto the drive Eli started yelling with excitement "Poo-Daddy, Poo-Daddy!"
Thomas corrected him and said "No E-I (which is exactly how he pronounces his name, I am doing you a phonetic favour here) it's not Poo-Daddy it is Who-Daddy."
I'd like to take this opportunity to correct them both.
It is actually Ho-Daddy, Ho-Daddy and if you have no clue whatsoever what I am referring to then you obviously have been deprived of the 217 hours of Backyardigans that parenthood has forced upon me.
The Ho-Daddy reference is from the Surf's Up episode. I totally recommend it BTW. Anyhow that is a massive tangent so I'll get back to the point.
Eli responds, "No Daddy is a giant like mummy!" (I'm 5 feet 10 inches hardly giant proportions but I guess to a little person it could appear that way so I won't take offense, much.)
"NO daddy is bigger than mummy because he is the boss!"
How on earth did my three year old form such a politically incorrect opinion? I'll have you know Rob is neither the boss of this household (or anywhere else really) or even taller than me.
I am an actually an entire inch taller. So there, Thomas. I must be the boss if height is the only requirement.
As if that wasn't a treat enough last night when I thought both my boys were sleeping somewhere around 10pm Thomas unexpectedly shouts my name out. He didn't sound upset so I chose to respond from my seat on the sofa (the benefits of dwelling in a teeny tiny house) wondering what he could be wanting at such an hour when he should have been in a peaceful slumber for hours.
'I am getting big boobies like you'.
Cue near death by laughing fits for both Rob and I whilst Rob explained that boys don't have boobies.
And for the record I think he is the first and no doubt the last person to ever use the word big in connection with my boobies.
Because we all know when God was handing out the boobs I was obviously in the queue for a zippy metabolism instead.
A girl can't have everything.