Monday, 6 December 2010

I know a lot of you enjoy the stuff J says. Thought I would share a few of those with you.

J***-isms = funny things said by J that have an entirely different meaning for him than they do for those who hear it.

J***-anese = The name given to his little language as a toddler. Until he was about 3 ½ he spoke mostly gibberish with a few intelligible words thrown in.  example:  at the age of three, when asking for a drink, he would say, “garble garble garble juice”.

NOTE:  If you know us personally you know how to fill in the asterisks. I choose not to disclose his name here because he is a minor and I have no control over who sees my blog. I’m all about protecting the little people from stupid big people.

At age 5:

I was reading to him about the Good Samaritan. At the end of the story I paused for a little Q & A.

“So, if you see someone hurt on the side of the road, but they aren’t your friend, what do you do?” I asked.

“Nuffin,” he replied.

“Well, that’s not what Jesus would do, is it?”

I went back over the highlights of the story and then asked again, “What should you do if you see someone hurt and they are your enemy?”

“Nuffin, he’s not my friend,” he replied.

“Jesus would stop and help because that’s the right thing to do. Don’t you think you should stop?”

“Look,” he said while rolling his eyes at me. “I ain’t Jesus. I’m J***.”

At age 7:

We were out Christmas shopping. The parking lots were packed and difficult to navigate. While sitting and waiting for an oncoming car so we could get by, J pipes in from the back seat with his thoughts on the matter.

“Hey! Get on your own side of the road, yo!”

Road rage from the back seat.

On Saturday:  This is a prime example of J being “literal”.

There was incessant whining from the back seat. Every thirty seconds he said, “I’m hungry”. Every thirty seconds I replied, “I know J. We’re going to stop in a few minutes and get something.”

Don decides to tease him by asking him to specify how hungry he is. It goes like this:

D: Are you hungry or are you HUNGRY?

J: I don’t know.

Me: He’s a hungry boy, aren’t you J?

J: I don’t know.

Me: Well, are you hungry?

J: I don’t know.

Me:  Are you a boy?

J: I don’t know.

Me: Are you a girl?

J:  I don’t know.

Me: Oh, good grief.

At this point Don begins a series of “Are you?” questions with J. To each one J replies, “I don’t know.” J is clearly enjoying the game and the knowledge that he’s being frustrating.

Finally, Don says, “Are you a liability?”

J: No, because I don’t lie.

D: Then you must be an asset. Are you an asset?

J: No, because I don’t have gas.

A few months ago:

Dylan was teasing J. Dylan is always teasing J.

Finally, J comes back at Dylan with, “One day, when I’m gangsta, I’m gonna kick you in the face. You know why?” and with swagger he answers, “‘Cause I’m the big boss!”

It's things like these that remind me on a regular basis that I am the mother to the coolest kid on the planet.

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