It’s only Tuesday, and Radcliffe is racking up on the stories….
Yesterday, he asked, ‘When you go to that place with flames after you’re dead, maybe you’ll meet Washington or Lincoln.’
Then, later, ‘Cavemen couldn’t enjoy life because they didn’t have the modern toilet.’ (great observation, actually)
Next, he had to start talking about my age. ‘Mom, now that I’m growing up, your whole world is falling apart.’ Then, ‘I have these lines on my face that are like yours. Do they make me look old, like they do on you?’
This morning, he kept screaming that he just wanted some ‘nipples’ over and over. At my wit’s end, I realized he wanted just a ‘nibble’. A ‘p’ and a ‘b’ are two VERY different things.
I just put him to bed, and once again, he went to bed pissed at me. For what, you ask? Because I won’t build a time machine and go back into time to save Lincoln.