Brixton Verbatim

Gone are the days I longed for my baby to talk. Now I long for silence. For a private moment without someone shouting, "Mama? Where are you?" while sticking tiny baby fingers under the door. Now my days are filled with hearing the same question and/or statement about 100 times (in a row) or wondering, "Where did he get that word from??" Now that he's talking, he's coming up with some pretty interesting quotes. Thus, Brixton Verbatim:

-Mama! I'm running like a chipmunk!

-Me: My shoulder hurts.
-BRX: That's okay mama. I can probably fix it with a drill.

-BRX: (farted)
-Me: What was that?
-BRX: That's a tornado.

I proudly set a piece of homemade peach pie in front of him. He looked at it and then declared, "That looks horrible." (And he wouldn't even taste it. His loss. It was delish.)

Me: You are sweet like a lollipop.
BRX: I'm not a lollipop. I'm just a boy.

(Smell of poop floats through the air)
Me: What's in your pants?
BRX: There's a treasure in there.

And the best/worst moment of the week:

Brixton and I were at a restaurant for dinner. I tried tucking in a napkin into his shirt. Immediately, with the loudest voice possible, he yelled, "No, damn it!" then he hit the table with his hand. "Damn it!" "Damn it!" "Damn it!" Okay, #1--I honestly don't know where he got this. We don't really swear in front of him. Best guess--he heard it during a fight/one of those moments you stub your toe. #2 I couldn't make eye contact with anyone in the restaurant. Mostly because I was laughing too hard.