The boys helped me make scones. When the dough was made and we were ready to put scoops of it on the baking sheets, I reminded them that scones shouldn’t be perfectly round or flat, like cookies.
R — They’re bumpy! (Pause) I get it! They’re called scones ’cause they look like rocks. Scones instead of stones, right?
In the kitchen, during breakfast, the boys are discussing their need for haircuts.
B – I want to let mine grow out, but not as long as yours, Mom.
R – I want mine to be medium.
Mom – You could let it grow out on the top only. That way it would be longer without looking like mine.
B – What do you mean?
Mom – You know, even all the way around. Like a bowl.
R, loudly and enthusiastically – But then we would look like Auntie Kate!!
At the dinner table, R asks for lemonade.
Mom — Not tonight. I want to save it for you when you take your medicine tomorrow (a laxative that has to be mixed into a liquid).
R — Well, how about just a little bit?
Mom — No.
R — Maybe a little bit of lemonade with lots of water? ‘Cause that makes lots of lemonade.
Mom stares at him, amazed at his efforts to get his way. Everyone is silent for a few seconds.
R — Why won’t you say anything? Are you embarrassed?
R and I are having a conversation about heaven.
R — Is it going to look like our home now?
Mom — Yes, but better! There will be nothing to hurt us or make us sad.
R — So there won’t be poison ivy?
B — Mom, even though R and I look the same, we’re different because R has a lower voice when he cries.
Discussing the different ways to kill house flies.
R — We could use some of that bug spray that Oma has…
Dad — That doesn’t really work.
R — Yeah, it does! It kills spiders, flies, and croaches, too!
After a recent conversation regarding the eating habits of dung beetles.
B — Good thing we don’t eat poop!
R — That would be so inappropriate.
On the floor outside the boys’ bedroom, during a recent visit from Auntie Kate:
In the kitchen, the boys are eating Popsicles. A conversation ensues about how these particular Popsicles compare to some they had last week.
R — Well, the red part looks the same, but those tasted like strawberry and these taste like cherry. It’s the switcheroo!
R walks into the room, where Mom is making the bed.
R — I’m hungry. Can you make noodles?
Mom — Sure. Let me finish this. I’ll be right there.
R — You don’t have to tell me that!
Mom — What do you mean?
R — You don’t have to say that to me. I’m all grown up! Look at me! I’m seven years old!