"Mom! We watched the movie cars, and now were playing collection! Look!"

Tornado in East tomorrow...Beware.

P: Mom, there is a tornado in East tomorrow. Right?

Me: Um, there is?

P: Yeah. There is. It's a tornado. In East.

Me: Oh. Hmm. Well, where did you hear that?

P: Grandma's car told me. Through the speakers, you know? They said there is a tornado in East tomorrow.

Me: (chuckles) Oh, I see. Hmm, well that's interesting. I don't think I knew that.

P: Yeah, East is that way.

Me: Which way?

P: (points East, impressive) That way.

Me: That's good. You're actually exactly right.

P: I know. There is going to be a tornado tomorrow in East. And if there isn't a tornado in East, then we can drive that way. If there isn't a tornado. But Grandma's speakers said there would be a tornado in East, tomorrow, and so we can't drive to East if there is a tornado. But if there isn't a tornado in East, then we can drive there, right mommy? But there IS going to be a torndao in East, so we better not drive there. And the wind will blow and everything will be in circles, and we can't drive in East because there is a tornado. But if there isn't a tornado, then everything won't blow in circles, and we can drive, and so we can go to East.

(this talking in circles continued for, seriously I'm not exaggerating, a solid 2 minutes)

Me: Wow. That's a lot. I hope there isn't a tornado.

P: Yeah, but there will be. In East.

P's Solution to Life's Problems...

(eating his morning fruit snack treat on the way to school today...)

"So, I think we should give everybody in the world fruit snacks, because it will just make them sooooo happy."

In case you hadn't heard...

Preston got a dog. We "rescued" him (long story), and he's an absolute sweetie...when he's not being a pain in the rear; but that is pretty much the deal for everyone in our little family, so he fits in great. ;) We got him the Monday night before we left for Disney World (another long story), so we didn't have much bonding time before we left him for 8 days. Preston pretty much ignored that he had a dog while we were gone, but I don't blame him. Then, out of the blue, on the way home:

P: Mom, where is Malaki*?

Me: Um, at Duckie's. Remember, we took him there?

P: Well, when will he be home?

Me: We'll go get him once we get home.

P: I miss my doggie. (pause) I love him so much. (pause) He's my beeesssst friend.

Awww, sweet - I know, right? Except...he didn't ask about him one time for an entire week. Hey, the mouse is big competition.

Here is a pic of Malaki:P and Malaki: (it's kind of blurry, but they never sit still enough for a picture!)

And P and Malaki playing their favorite game:

As my friend Breanna put it, he's an adorable floor mop. Malaki will bring P the sock and he will just drag him all over the house! This picture was at Duckie's house - at least we have wood floors. ;)

* I don't know what your reference of Malaki is, but I am (now) aware (thanks to my husband) that Malaki is the evil kid in Children of the Corn, my sister used to teach a little terror named Malaki, and generally it's not a great name. BUT, Preston didn't want to change it. (I'm sorry Grandpa and Steph, I TRIED to push Peanut, but he said no way. His only other suggestion was Gunnar Peanut, and that was a big, fat NO.) So, Malaki is his name - and I prefer to think of the Malachi in the BIBLE ("Messenger of Angels" is what it means), instead of some demonized child. Albert thinks its funny to "demon call" him, and growl "Malaki," sounding like something out of the Exorcist. I'll admit that he does stiffen up and coming running a lot quicker...

Haircuts...

Duckie gave Preston a mohawk when he got his hair cut yesterday.

Of course, all this means I had to recreate it this morning...

I'll give myself an A for effort. Dude, I don't do mohawks; braids, ponytails, curls? - Yes. Mohawks? Unfortunately, I was too busy being a pain in the rear to enter my punk-rock phase in high school.

Stitches are contagious...

[Preston's Aunt] Stephanie's dog, Gunnar, was at Easter this weekend since they went and snipped his manhood that Friday, and he needed supervision. To say the least, Preston was excited, and the whole "I want a dog" conversation has been happening ever since. (I am proud though; when Steph told him to ask for a little sister, he adamantly disagreed that he'd rather have a dog. High five, kiddo!) Anyway, we had to - carefully - explain to him that Gunnar had to go to the doctor, and he had stitches to make him better and to be careful if you pick him up or something, because it might hurt him.

Anyway, he was running around outside while all of us, including Preston (not going there right now) were in the backyard, not unlike a bunch of rednecks, with a BB gun trying to shoot a plastic pipe in half. Of course we were concerned about shooting the dog - I learned after trying to shoot [Preston's Uncle] Brandon in the butt with the gun, that you don't point the gun at living things. Apparently, you may (or may not) accidentally pull the trigger. Unlikely, I know...but a strict gun safety rule anyway. The dog, however, wouldn't move when you yelled at him, because the cat poop he was trying to eat was more important. So, every time he ran in the way, one of us got up to chase him. (By "one of us," I mean someone other than myself.)

It was Preston's turn to get him. He was slowly following him around, waiting for his opportunity, when he looked back, disgusted, and said,

"Mom, I don't want to get stitches on me..." subconsciously rubbing his arms.

While hysterically laughing, I tried to explain that stitches weren't contagious. "It's like when you had a hole in your shirt, and mommy sewed it up so the whole was closed. Gunnar had a hole, and the doctor sewed the hole so it would be closed...it's just called stitches!"

He didn't look convinced, so I continued, "I promise baby, you can't get stitches."

"But, they're on his stummy, right?" He wasn't buying it at ALL. "Yes," I replied "but they CAN'T get on you."

P spent the next 5 minutes trying to pick up Gunnar without getting stitches on him.

*Note: I still don't think he believes us... (YOU try explaining it to a 3-year old!) he keeps making comments about stitches and being able to "get" them. I think he's testing to see if my answer stays the same. He also checks his arms every time they come up...

Monster Trucks and Cheaters

I lied. I posted nothing funny over the weekend, but that's only because P has been a little slow on the funny factor. Until Sunday...

My stepdaughter came over Sunday to visit, and Preston absolutely adores her. They were outside playing with Albert, when someone got the idea to race monster trucks down the driveway. I'm not sure whose idea it was, it could just as easily have been Albert's as Prestons, but it was a good idea and P has PLENTY of monster trucks to go around.

So they are outside, lining up their trucks at the top of the hill, and letting them roll down in a race. (It was actually quite entertaining, and reminded me of racing hermit crabs from a vacation to Jamaica when I was younger.) I get the bright idea to grab the checkered flag, and play referee/announcer. We're having a good ole time, when Albert disappears inside and comes out with this giant monster truck. Obviously, it's going to win every time...the kids are playing with Hot Wheels sized trucks.

They run a few races, and at first it's funny that the big one keeps winning. Then, the kids start getting frustrated that no one can beat Albert's truck, and begin complaining that the cheater truck keeps winning. As the referee/announcer, I disqualify the big one from racing and push it to the side.

They run a couple more races with the little ones, when Preston heads down the hill to retrieve his trucks, and I see it. That lustful side glance at the big one; a sure fire win, while his truck has been turning every direction but DOWN the hill the last couple races.

He grabs the big truck and looks dead at his sister and dad and says, "I'm going to be the cheater."

He spent the next morning ride telling me about how he was the cheater, and he had the "cheatist" truck. I suppose we should have a conversation about cheating BEFORE he starts team sports...