Well, That's One Solution...

Theo has a weird dairy allergy. He can eat some dairy just fine. Other dairy makes him break out in eczema and itch. Still other makes him break out in full-blown hives. It's hard to tell what will trigger a reaction, so we mostly just avoid it. Still, sometimes we make exceptions. That's what sparked today's conversation:

Theo: Mommy, can I share one of your potato bites?
Me: No, honey, it has dairy.
Theo: But I can try just a little bite!
Me: Well...I suppose, but you might break out in a rash. If you do, we'll have to put cream on it for you.
Theo: Okay, Mommy. And can you put some of that sour cream on it?
Me: Nope, if you have sour cream, you will definitely break out in a bad rash!
Theo (imitating my exact tone): Well then you can just definitely put cream on it. 

I suppose that is one way to deal with it. Always with the loopholes...

Science According to Boys

I kept Theo home from school yesterday because his ear infection was still painful—plus, Sam was pretty sick, and I didn't feel like dragging him on the 60-minute round-trip drive to Theo's school and back. So, at one point during the day, Theo got out his science kit and decided he wanted to "do science." I watched as he filled two glasses full of water and then took out a large clear-plastic eyedropper thingy and transferred water from one glass to another. What he said next wouldn't have been nearly as amusing if he hadn't been totally serious, like a middle-aged scientist explaining his latest hypothesis. There wasn't a trace of humor in his voice as he carefully explained, "I'm making pee, Mom. See? Watch how I get pee up in the p*nis, Mommy. Now I'm getting pee in the p*nis [the eyedropper]. Then you take the p*nis and make it pee in the other cup, Mom. You see how that works?"

I'm pretty sure he really thought he was inventing some sort of prosthetic p*nis.

[Excuse the spelling—I don't want search engines labeling my site as some sort of adult content!]

To the Dullard...

Theo has a habit of explaining things very slowly, as if talking to a small child, when he thinks we don't understand his point. This would be supremely irritating if it wasn't so darn amusing. He's very polite about it all—it's just clear from his tone that he thinks Mommy and Daddy aren't always too bright, and he should explain things very carefully to us. Our most recent exchange went like this:

Theo: One plus one equals eleven!
Me: Actually, it equals two. Two ones look like an eleven when you write them, but one plus one equals two. If you have one apple and you get one more, you have two apples, not eleven.
Theo (very slowly and patiently): Mom, let me try to explain this better. One and one is eleven. Two and two is twenty-two. Three and three is thirty-three.

On and one he went up to ninety-nine...and then finished with, "Do you understand now, Mommy, what I was explaining?"

Yes, child. I think you got it through my thick skull.

A Matter of Critical Importance

I have to take Sam to the ENT on Friday because the tubes in his ears don't seem to be draining, and he keeps getting ear infections. Unfortunately, due to the timing of the appointment, I have to bring Theo with me. (Dragging him along to a boring doctor's appointment isn't particularly fun for anyone involved. He's reasonably well-behaved, but he's like any bored five-year-old boy confined to a small exam room...antsy.) I told him about this yesterday, and we had the following conversation:

Theo: Mom, are you picking me up at school on Friday?
Me: I am. And then we have to go to Antioch Kaiser.
Theo: Why?
Me: Because Sam's ENT doctor needs to check his ears.
Theo: Oh good, Mommy. I need to talk to her.
Me: You do?
Theo: Yes, Mom. I need to tell her about the boogers in my nose. Why are they there? Why are there so many boogers in there? I don't like them, Mom. And what's up with my ears? I need to ask her that, too.

I can see the ENT will be getting a little more than she bargained for when we arrive. :-)

Combining Efforts

Today's bizarre conversation with my son, regarding Chris's and my upcoming appointment with our estate lawyer to finalize our wills and Sam's trust:

Theo: Mommy, when you go to the lawyer's office, will there be a lot of very old people there?
Me: Not that I'm aware of. Why?
Theo: I mean old people in their boxes!
Me: Boxes? Why would old people be in boxes?
Theo (getting frustrated by my ignorance): Their BOXES, Mommy! Like they're really old, and they look like they're sleeping but really they're dead, and they're in boxes! Will they be at the lawyer's office?

Ohhh. I get it now. Wills = old dead people = lawyer's office turning into a morgue. It all makes sense now. And suddenly I'm creeped out by our upcoming appointment.