There are some days when Fraser totally cracks me up, and last Friday was definitely one of those days. The following are three actual conversations Fraser and I had on Friday:

Fraser: "I'm a big boy and Hammie is a baby."

Me: "Well, Hammie is one now, so he's not really a baby anymore, he's a toddler."

Fraser: "I'm big and Hammie is little."

Me: "Yes, Hammie is little compared to you because you are his big brother. You were little when you were a baby you know."

Fraser: "Hammie's not a baby."

Me: "No"

Fraser: "Hammie's an animal"

Me: "What? No, Hammie's not an animal"

Fraser: "Yes, Hammie is an animal and Fraser is an animal."

Me: "Well, yes, I suppose technically that is true..."

Then, at lunch Fraser has a habit of insisting that he is not done eating no matter how obvious it is that he is done. Rather than fight him on this I just let him sit in his seat while I clean up and play with Hammie in the other room, checking in with Fraser every 5 minutes or so, until he decides that he is done. So, on Friday we finished eating and Fraser declared he was not done. Fine. 5 minutes later I go into the dining room and he has taken off his bib and stuffed it down the front of his sweater. He still insists that he is not done (and does not want to take the bib out of his sweater. Fine. 5 minutes later I check again; he has pulled the bib out and put it on the table and he has managed to pull the front of the sweater up over his head, but his arms are still in the sleeves. He agrees to let me help take off his sweater, but he isn't done. Fine. 5 minutes later I walk in and he has pulled the front of his shirt up and is rubbing his belly, this is our actual conversation:

Me: "Are you all done"

Fraser: (still rubbing his bare belly) "No."

Me: "What are you doing?"

Fraser: "I'm rubbing my baby."

Me: (thinking I must have misunderstood and he really said "belly" and not "baby.") "Your baby?"

Fraser: "Yes" (points at bib) "That's my baby."

Me: (laughing) "Oh, that's you baby?"

Fraser: (laughing at Mommy) "No mom! That's a bib!"

And finally, later in the afternoon while I was changing Fraser's diaper:

Fraser: "No mom! Don't put my diaper on!"

Me: "What, why?"

Fraser: "I want to poop outside!"

Me: "What? No, you don't poop outside. You're not a dog!"

Fraser: (yelling) "I'm a dog! I want to poop outside!"

Yes, two year olds are full of the weirdest ideas. It is a good thing I found him so adorable on Friday because on Saturday I found him decidedly less so. On Saturday Fraser learned his first bad word, "Stupid," and decided to use it with a vengence. Everything was stupid on Saturday. Stupid Hammie, Stupid Mommy, Stupid Dharma, Stupid box. As a result Fraser spent a lot of time in "time out" on the stairs. Luckily the novelty seems to be wearing off, and Andy may finally appreciate why I completely freak out when he does or says things in front of Fraser that I don't want to see imitated. Yes, I blame Andy for the emergence of "Stupid" in our lives, but I will admit now that if Fraser starts dropping the f-bomb at playgroup, I'll have no one to blame but myself.