February 15, 2013
A backlog of scraps to record:
Enzo: I have a strange feeling.
Me: Strange how?
Enzo: Just funny.
Me: How do you feel funny?
Enzo: I feels like my spirit is split in two.
He’s sick, and I’m afraid the strange feeling might be nausea. The thermometer in his mouth made him feel like throwing up. So we did it in his butt. It was awesome.
We agreed that he can sleep in the big bed one last night even though he’s pretty much better, but tomorrow he is going to school and after that back in his own bed.
Enzo: I most probably will have to break that deal. To save my life. I can’t go to school.
Me: [Silent regard, eating my brussels sprouts.]
Enzo: What to you think is worser–
Enzo: –dying or going to school?
We were sitting on the couch reading books and then we couldn’t find the shark book he’d picked out. Finally we discovered it under my butt.
Enzo: Your butt was so big you didn’t even feel it.
I have to add here that my butt is like another member of the family. We’re all very fond of it and discuss frequently. We don’t really respect it, however.
Enzo: I think I might not even have any babies. They’re not even cute.
Me: What about you when you were a baby?
Enzo: Well, maybe me.
I should add that a few weeks ago I came home from work, and there was a sign on the door: a picture of something (perhaps human) inside a wavering circle and a line through the circle and, in Teresa’s printing: NO BABIES. Teresa said she was just following instructions, including posting it on the door.
Enzo doesn’t get to watch his morning TV until I leave for work. Because we’re supposed to be spending time together.
Enzo: If you don’t leave for work right now, I’m going to grow hair on my legs.
Me: What does that even mean?
Teresa: That makes, like, no sense.
Enzo: You know you and Miss Piggy? That’s me and Phineas and Pherb. I just don’t like them. At all.
That reminds me that one time Enzo asked me why I don’t like Miss Piggy, and I had to say that I couldn’t remember. But now I recall that I consider her an imposter–a usurper, actually. I am a Princess and a Porkchop. Then she came along and made the combination seem so unattractive.