Friday, September 26, 2008

Move


So I moved offices yesterday. When I picked up Owen, I told him about it.

This kid absorbs info, and applies to his advantage. He starts to think about things and comes up with a plan. Folks, he did not get this from me. The following exchange did not occur because of any of my genes.
We wake up the next day, start getting ready, and he walks up to me while I'm brushing my hair.
Owen: Mommy? I want to move rooms.
Me: Where do you want to go?
Owen: Downstairs. I want my room down stairs.
Me: Why? The guest room is so much smaller than your room.
Owen: No, I want your room. You can go upstairs to my room. But you have a lot of clothes, so you can keep some down here.
Then he walks away as if to say, "well, that's that." All he needs to do is ask, and he shall receive.
AND - he seriously thought he was being generous when he said I could keep some of my clothes in my own closet.


Saturday, September 6, 2008

Flawless reasoning

Actual dialogue between Owen and me just now.

Owen (looking out at the moon through the bedroom windows, which still have no curtains, so if the mowers come early on Thursdays, yes, they get a show): Mommy, do you want to go to the moon?

Me: Heck no

Owen: I want to.

Controlling me: No, you don't.

Owen: Yes I do. I want to see aliens. Do you want to see aliens?

Me: No, but if I did, I wouldn't find them on the moon.

Owen: You don't want to see aliens?

Me: Nope.

Owen: What's your favorite color?

Me: Blue.

Owen: Then what?

Me: Red.

Owen: Then what?

Me: Purple.

Owen: Then What?

Me: Maybe sage green, but then, I'm out, Owen.

Owen: Okay. Well, what if the aliens were those colors? Wouldn't you want to meet them then?

Flawless. I had nothing up against that sort of logic. He had me. I want to see the aliens now.