Scotty always comes up with the funniest things to say. He loves to tell animated stories about his night-time dreams or his ideas for inventions of special remote control cars (life-size) that can fly and go under water. He also gives us a lot of cute one-liners. Here's a sample.
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Yesterday the baby was asleep with her door shut and the kids were playing loudly downstairs. It occurred to me that if Shari woke up, we would not be able to hear her. So I checked and she was awake and had been crying. I felt bad because I knew that she must have been awake for awhile (she always wakes up quiet, then babbles, then cries -- as a last resort). I brought her downstairs and showed her to Scotty. I explained that she was stuck in her crib and was trying to tell us that she wanted out. Scotty put his hands in the air, the way he does to explain something to me, and said, "Mom, a cradle like a jail!"
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Grant is a homebody, Scotty is not. If I go anywhere (grocery store, post office, library, pick up babysitter), Scotty wants to go. I don't know if he's hoping we'll stop at the toy store along the way, or if he's just incredibly clingy to me. At any rate, we had a particularly busy schedule one day (the kind that make me want to move to the mountains and be alone with my family!). We had to take Nicole to co-op class in the morning. While she was there, I took the other three kids to Sam's Club to buy meat (and a few other items) for our picnic that day. We picked up Nicole and then went home instead of the park, on account of poor behavior. Luckily we were at home instead of at the park, however, because we discovered that our meat from Sam's was a week past its expiration and tasted AWFUL (still not over that). So we found something else to eat, then ran out the door to take Nicole to swim team. The boys swam, too. We got all the kids changed back into the clothes, then stopped at Sam's (which is NOT on the way home) to return the meat and buy something for dinner (seriously *crazy* day) since we had evening plans. We wanted to buy a rotisserie chicken to go with a salad, but their ovens were broken (rotten luck). We found croissants and ice cream to substitute (good luck reinstated). When we got home, we had only enough time to unload the kids, eat and go potty before getting back in the car to take Nicole to a special piano practice for her annual piano ensemble event. I was hoping that Clint would make it home in time to keep the three younger kids, but as fate would have it, our luck had expired. When I told the kids to get back in the car to go, Scotty approached me in sheer frustration and yelled, "I QUIT GOING PLACES, MOM!" I apologized a million times, gave him a hug, and then escorted him to the car. Just one of those days ...
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Scotty's way of telling me that he doesn't like/want something is to say that he "quits" it. For example, "I quit eating this lettuce!" or "I quit taking a break." He has been known a few times lately to say that he "quits Sunday." Sunday just isn't as fun if you can't spend it playing the Wii, computer, or vegging out in front of the TV. I get sick of all the electronics, and Sunday is such a respite for me. Plus, I think the kids need a break from it as well. It gives them time to think about what is really important. One day, the kids and I were leaving the house in a hurry (this could describe every time we leave the house, actually), and Scotty refused to buckle his seat belt until I promised that there would be no more Sundays. Of course I couldn't do that, so I said, "Sorry, Scotty" and buckled him myself. I said we were in a hurry.
