“Look Mom, a rainbow on the ground!” — Child #5, age 3, upon seeing an oil spill from the vehicle next to ours in the McDonald’s parking lot earlier today.
Ah, life through the eyes of a child. An oil spill becomes a rainbow.
Here’s another one. We have a mischievous habit in our family of “stealing” food off the plate of each another. It usually happens at the end of dinner when meals have been mostly finished. The slower eaters tend to be the victims of such antics, and Dad usually heads off the thievery, often by distracting the eaters. (It’s all in good fun, truthfully, but sometimes the youngest ones protest, and they have every right to do so, of couse!) So, last night, some of this light-hearted food-swiping was taking place at supper’s end. Watching the scene, I called hubby on it. “What kind of father would take food from his child’s plate? The nerve!” This prompted the following revelation by one of our younger kids:
“Well, Jack is always stealing food from Marissa’s plate at school.” — Child #4, age 5
“Really? Well, I’d say Jack has a crush on Marissa.” — Mom, age (nevermind)
“Jack’s the janitor.” — Child #4
Hopefully I relayed that effectively enough for you understand why we adults in the room broke out into hysterics at that point.