As I got out of the shower: "Why you got all that butt?"
As I skewered meat and veg for shish kebabs: "Those chiska bops smell good!"
As I put him to bed: "I think when we kiss each other it's yucky."
As he tried to convince me he needed another cupcake: "I'm not hungry for healthy food, I'm hungry for chocolate icing." (I feel ya, buds.)
As we ate breakfast: "Hot milk and cold milk and chocolate milk are different milks!"
As he tried to stall bedtime: "Why can my arms move? Because skeleton!"
Mothering Grady is a wild ride; sometimes I grit my teeth and count the seconds to bedtime and take deep breaths and raid my secret chocolate stash. And sometimes I laugh so hard I can't breathe and hug so hard I can't breathe and love so hard I can't breathe. My almost-four-year-old is amazing and frustrating and brilliant and sensitive and maddening and mine. I'm so lucky.