This was so cute I had to share—I take a water aerobics class twice a week at the local YMCA. As I was walking through the short hallway that leads from the main ladies locker room to the pool, I had to slow up a bit due to all of the showers in that hallway being in use by what had to be a small invading army of little girls and the floor was a bit slick. I was almost to the door when I head a tiny little girl squeal, “SISSY!! Close the curtain! You’re letting all my naked out!”
I frequently sculpt Spongebob and Patrick from “Spongebob Squarepants” out of putty for my 3-year-old autistic student’s amusement. Today, I decided to switch it up and said, “How about I make Gary?” (Gary is Spongebob’s pet snail.)
3-year-old watched me closely as I rolled the putty into a ball. As I started to shape the bottom, he said in an approving tone, “Yeeees, that IS like a Gary!”
He also said the other day while enjoying his glass of milk, “Mm, it’s like a milk!” I laughed and said, “No, D, it IS milk!”
I had my three year old son with me at the supermarket check-out, and there was a fairly hirsute older gentleman in a tie-dye behind us. He tells the cashier very seriously, “Never, never, never touch a hippie!”
I cracked up, she cracked up, the dude cracked up. I don’t know where he got that idea.
Last night, as we sat down in the restaurant’s booth for dinner, The Littlest Briston needed more room to sit. “Mommy,” she said to my wife, “can you please scoop over?”