We were driving home from a day of running around at an orchard, on a day when Lewis was also overtired from a few nights of later-than-normal bedtimes. He was going on and on in the car, nonstop, as we got to the pizza place to pick up dinner:
Lewis: What's that? Where's the ___? Who's making our pizza? Why?
Me: Lewis.
Lewis: Is that enough?
I usually say, 'Lewis, that's enough.' Apparently, I can get the point across now just by saying his name in a certain tone.
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I was in Lenore's room, feeding her after a nap one day. Lewis was in my/Kevin's room with the dogs, doing who knows what. I heard a loud thud and an actual cry coming from Lewis, so I knew he did something beyond his normal level of bouncing about:
Lewis: (in tears) I hurt... my brain...and...my belly!
Me: (holding back laughter after he said he hurt his brain) You did? What happened?
Lewis: I ran into the door.
Me: Oh, oh dear.
[I checked him out, and he was fine, but still upset for a few minutes. Then, after calming down...]
Lewis: Or maybe I jumped off the bed and hit the door??
Again, I had to stifle the laughter. He so sweetly presented the truth to me as a question.
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One weekend recently, we were discussing what to do for the afternoon/evening, and we settled on going to a park to play and have a picnic for dinner:
Me: Ok, so I'll run to Kroger and get food for the picnic.
Lewis: I know what I want!
Me: Ok.
Lewis: Bananas.
Apples.
Cucumbers.
Hot dogs with ketchup and mustard.
Grilled cheese.
And spaghetti.
Me: (jotting everything down) Ok, is that all?
Lewis: Yes.
I don't know where he got such a list! First of all, he's never eaten a hot dog, and I'm not sure if he's had cucumber. I'm wondering if he saw a super elaborate picnic on Curious George or something? He was so sure about it, too. So funny.
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We are still working on Lewis being a willing participant in our dinners. It is like the last thing I want to do at the end of the day (argue with him about eating what I cooked), but we are trying to be more diligent about it. One night, we had asked him to take 3 bites of his meal. Later, he asked for privacy so that he could go to the bathroom. When Kevin went back to help him clean up:
Lewis: I had 3 poops. 3 poops, 3 bites.
Very matter of fact, our Lewis.
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Sometimes, Lewis fends for himself while I'm putting Lenore down or working on something around the house. I think I was coming downstairs from putting her down for nap one day, and I came upon him sitting at the dining room table:
Lewis: (sitting with a jar of peanut butter, jar of jelly, bread, knife, spoon, and train cookie cutter--for train-shaped PB&Js, of course)
Me: What are you doing?
Lewis: Making a peanut and butter jelly sandwich. I need some help. (And he says sandwich as swam-wich, which I love.)
He had the sweetest tone to his voice, like he was so proud for gathering all of the ingredients himself.
He is hilarious!
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