I seem to be the only person who can understand my son. This morning, when he said, "Mama, I uh show you the bih pie-yer!", I knew that he said, "Mama, I'm going to show you the big spider!". Luckily for me, he thinks that the smallest of bugs is a "giant pie-yer!". Last night, he had a phone conversation with my dad that went something like this:
Grampa! I uh die-yo-sore! He angwy! Roooaaaarrrr! He sweeping now. Grampa! I rye my Grator outside! I pih the ticks and uh to the Holy Mokes! And the carry backfire! Goo-nite! I wuv you.
Loosely translated:
Grandpa! I have a dinosaur! He's angry! Roooaaaarrrr! [wraps up the plastic dinosaur in a damp dishtowel] He's sleeping now. Grandpa! I ride my Gator outside. I pick up sticks and take them to the Holy Smokes (the fire pit)! And there was scary backfire*! Good night! I love you.
*a miles-away neighbor was target practicing with a shotgun
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