Everyone has that one friend who talks way too much.
The friend who over shares.
The friend who says something and you think “Why would ANYONE say that out loud??”
The friend who says inappropriate things and you question their social skills.
To a lot of people, I am that friend… But for me, it’s Little S.

Three is such a weird age. They’re old enough to talk to you, but I’d venture to say about 80% of the things that come out of their mouth is nonsense. Or just things that should not ever come out of a person’s mouth. Ever.

Like the one time Little S pooped and then proceeded to scream like a banshee and proclaim “MOM COME LOOK. IT’S AMAZING!”

He says things with such conviction that I sometimes even believe it. He told me it was snowing the other day and he was so convinced that it was indeed snowing, that I had to question my parenting. Like, did I never explain to you what snow is? You know it’s white and covers the entire ground? No, that’s the sun, Little S…. I thought watching Frozen 4825182 times would have made this pretty clear. Then he also told me that the sky had an accident when it started raining. Weather is not his strong suit.

In the car, Little S and I were talking and he says
“Oh mommy, Jesus loves you.”
I said, oh that’s so right babe. Jesus loves you too!
“Mommy, Jesus is going to take me to the farm.”
Really? That’s….unlikely.
“Mommy, Jesus is going to take me to the zoo.”
Then he started whispering, in the most hushed, half-question-like way he said,
“Mommy, Jesus is in my shirt…. Jesus is in my bed….. Jesus is in my closet…”
Look, I love me some Jesus, but this sufficiently creeped me out. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Sometimes he says things wrong, like, instead of saying “Oh no! What are we going to do?!” he says “How we gonna do?!” Or, “She has she binky.” Which I laugh at every single time. I can’t bring myself to correct him on either of those things. I want him to still be using those phrases when he’s 20.

I mean, yes…some things he says he does get from me. Like when he wakes up in the morning and half grunts/ half screams “WHERE’S MY COFFEE? COFFEE!” I do that on occasion. Or like, the other day we were play cooking together and I said something about wanting a chocolate cupcake and not a vanilla one (C’mon, son. That’s basic knowledge.) and he says “Ugh. Mommy, don’t be so sassy.” Excuse me sir, I will sass you all I want. Because I’m the mom. And I can. And it’s fun. I totally get why children like it so much.

Then there’s the repetitiveness of three year olds.
“Mommy, I want some peanut butter. Mommy, can I have some peanut butter? Mommy, peanut butter on a blue spoon? Mommy, I just want some peanut butter. Peanut butter on the blue spoon. Mommy. Mommy, peanut butter? Mommy, I just want some. Peanut butter? I’ll get the peanut butter. I need the blue spoon. Can I have peanut butter? Mommy? Please. I just want peanut butter.”
Oh, I’m sorry son, did you want something? I was too busy trying to shove my head inside this blender. Which would be equivalent to the painfulness of listening to you “request” something.

Three year olds. You think they have no idea what they are talking about, until they say something like “Raelyn is so beautiful and she’s my princess.” or “I just, I just, I just love my dad and want to play for hours and for days” or “Mommy, you’re a good mommy!” and suddenly every word that comes out of their mouth has so much more weight to it.


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