Owen told me today that my perfume “Smells nice! Like cheese. Like bread! Like compost!” Um, compost is not really the scent I was trying to evoke.
Owen looking into his full diaper pail: “Oh. This is not good.”
And in the Y locker room after swim class last Saturday, Owen looked around and proclaimed the place “a terrible mess.” And then he said, “I need a paper towel.” To clean up the mess, you see. (It actually wasn’t so terrible of a mess. Just wet.) There was a phone on the wall of the locker room and Owen said it was his turn to use it. While we were waiting for the swim lesson before Owen’s to end so that his could begin, Owen told me I was too big for the pool. I told him I was pretty sure I could fit.
He also loves (once again) to go down the basement to Sean’s tool bench and gaze admiringly at all the tools hanging on the peg board. Sean has nails in a board that Owen is allowed to hammer. While at the bench, he talks nonstop (and somewhat unclearly) about his hobby. Apparently tools are his hobby—and we are not sure where he got this from.
When I come home from work these days, he likes to introduce me to Dorothy. He’ll make a kind of magnanimous sweeping gesture towards Dorothy with his arm and say to me, “This is Dorothy!” In case I had forgotten. He also told Susan when I got home the other day that she should give me a hug.
He’s been a bit worried that there are monsters in the heating vent in his bedroom. When I say there are not, he then has to list all of the other places in the room where monsters are not (the lamp, the bookcase, the diaper pail, my belly, etc.)