Can someone please tell me why these words have to flow from my mouth?
Why is there a banana in my toaster???
Did God ever really intend for those words to be used together to form a question?
Please, please, please in the name of all that is good and Holy, someone please tell me why there’s a banana in my toaster!!!
And it’s just the latest in the series of questions spawned by “Boy Meets World”. After 15 years of parenting girls, I’m thinking I’m going to need hormone replacement therapy or some kind of chemical assistance to make it through the next few years of my 2 year old son’s life without spontaneously combusting. (Yes, I realize I’m being unrealistically short-sighted, but please leave me with my delusional thread of hope, however fragile, that he will outgrow these things.)
I will not leave you with the FLAT OUT LIE that your son will grow out of these bizarre traits. Boys are funny that way. Everything they see has a cool aspect if they pair it up with something seemingly “uncool”. That’s just the way their pointed little heads work!
Wow, anyone else worried that this kid may be a little too precocious? I mean…he’s two, and he’s already figured out that banana shaped things go in slot shaped things. I think the neighborhood girls are in trouble.
My niece hasn’t done anything NEAR as weird as the stuff my son did. Not even close. Example: I was building a fire in the fire place and asked her if she wanted to light the log (under my close supervision). She said NO. She said she didn’t think she was ready for something like that.:rolleyes:
My son, given the option at that age (9 years old) would have torched the fireplace, the curtains, the cat, and anything else that looked remotely flammable. It’s a guy thing.
Yep, the whole boy thing is different from the whole girl thing. Girls cut hair (Barbie’s, their own, the dog’s, doesn’t much matter whose) and color on things. This boy sets the stove on fire and drinks from the dog’s bowl.
You know, Grace, Elvis just might have had something. Peanut butter on banana-ed toast isn’t half bad.
And just to set the record straight for the sickos in the bunch, and you know who you are **Davebear ** and **Duke of Rat **, my son is not a lesbian and there’ll be no more bananas in the toaster until he’s at least old enough to keep the peel on and make sure the toaster’s unplugged