Long after I put Jack to bed, I heard him rattling around upstairs. I went to investigate:
Me: What’s the matter.
J: Well, I hurt myself a little bit.
Me: Is that because you were goofing around?
Jack: Yes. Yes it is.
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I used to hope Jack would go poo-poo on the potty. Now he can't get enough of it, even trying to go when he really doesn't have to. It's a huge waste of time but I don't want to get mad at his efforts. On one particular trip to the potty, I started to tire of waiting. He told me: Caca’s gonna be here in just a minute.
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The other day at dinner. . .
Jack: I wanna treat.
Me: You can have a pear. The pear’s a treat.
Jack: No. The pear is NOT a treat. A treat has Pixies on it.
(after about a minute)
Jack (excitedly): Do you think we have Oreos?
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