Chicken That's Dead

Recent tidbits, scavenged from Facebook posts:

"Jonathan, where do you get all your energy?"
"From chicken that's dead."

I overheard Abby playing on the couch with Jonathan's monkeys the other day, singing her own version of a childhood classic:  "Monkey, bed!  Monkey, bed... NO!  Up down, up down, NO!  Doctor NO!  Monkey bed!"

Jonathan at dinner, with a very pensive expression: "I wonder if fruit flies like vegetables too."

This moment while getting in the car with David and the kids on the way home from the beach... Abby had just finished a peanut butter sandwich, and David was loading her into the car when he walked around to the driver side sniffing his fingers, "This peanut butter smells a lot like poop!"  As you'd guess, what he was wiping off his shirt wasn't peanut butter.

Randomly in the middle of no particular moment (maybe he'd had a little toot?), from Jonathan: "Mommy, gas from our bottoms isn't dangerous, but gas from smoke and fires is dangerous, right?"

"Mommy, some day I want to ride in a space shuttle with you and Daddy."  Umm, I hope not.  The only way I'm getting on a space shuttle is if we're evacuating the planet.  And I bet evacuating the planet is even less fun than hurricane evacuations.

Two kids laughing in the bathroom make me nervous, so I go in to check.  "Hey, Jonathan, what are y'all doing?"
"We're putting the wipees back in."
I see 20 wipees out of the box and evidence that a good number have been removed and stuffed back into the container.
"Oh, good."  Taking into consideration he's also not wearing any pants, "Hey, did you use one of those wipees to wipe your bottom?"
"I used one of them!"  He starts looking through them to identify the one.
Great.  Looks like I have a box of wipees to inspect for skid marks.  Or, better, a box of wipees to chunk.

I appreciate that Abby's increasingly able to communicate her wants and needs with me.  The downside includes moments in a crowded checkout line in Target, when she begins screaming, "Poopoo DIAPER!  Poopoo DIAPER!" loud enough to be heard in the sporting goods aisle.  It was all I could do not to explain to those around me, "It's not poopoo!  It's just wet!"

In response to being chastised for failing to stop playing and check on his sister when she got hurt, Jonathan says, "But if there was a monster in the house, then I don't have to check on her.  I just run away."
"No, Jonathan, even if there's a monster in the house, you go back and check on your sister.  Then you take her with you to run away from the monster, OK?  ... ... Oh, and there won't be any monsters in our house."

My favorite of Abby's words at the moment, "Nuggle nuggle," for snuggles.  I love how she says "nuggle nuggle" as she buries her face in my neck!

Already showing Texan pride, this from Jonathan as we were coloring a map to learn about where our family lives.  After coloring the applicable states, he pointed to New Mexico and said, "This is not going to be a sate.  This is going to be our backyard from Texas.  I'm going to color it green."  And he did.