Fans of Everett

So, my 3-year-old is gathering quite a fan base on Facebook and he doesn’t even have his own page. You’ll have to link up with me there to get all the goods, but when Telling Dad posted about the crazy things his son says and does, I decided it’s high time I put some of Everett’s craziness here on my blog. Because there is simply not a 3-year-old ever born who can beat mine for story telling and laughs. Or mischief. But at least he’s funny.

Who Knew Batman Could be Such a Ham?

So, here are a few highlights gathered from the past couple months or so. Enjoy.

Licking the lid of a desert container: “Mommy, I like this mousse. Where did you get this mousse?” After a moment’s thought: “Did you get it from a moose pooping?”

Right before Halloween: “I want to have a dragon costume. And Doo [Dad] is going to be a turtle. And Monty: A nose. Monty’s gonna pick out a nose costume. And I will eat the nose.”

Me: Ew, this smells like mildew.
Everett: Mildew smells good. I like mildew. And watermelon. And canteloupe. Melons smell good.

Early Fall: Stepped outside the front door, then back to the bedroom, arms crossed. Stomping one little foot and looking me right in the eye, accusingly: “I knew it. It’s cold outside.” Then walked away.

Everett: Do you love my eyes? I love your eyes. They are super pretty.
Me: Aww… How swee– Ow! What are you doing?
Everett: I’m going to steal them and keep them for myself. <Poke!>

Everett: I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to stay with my brothers!
Me: Sorry, bud, but it’s time for bed.
Everett: Mommy, if you don’t let me stay with my brothers… I’m… I’m gonna argue with you!!!

Everett: One day I’m gonna be big like you Mommy.
Me: That’s true.
Everett: And then you’re going to be little like me. And poop in your pants. And I’m gonna make you sit on the stairs.

“Reading” aloud from an instruction manual: “Do. not. hit. Or you will die. Die die die… because of the doctors! When they poke a knife in you.”

“Mommy, if you were me and I were you, I would clean up a lot and you would cry.”

He’s a smart boy.

And whether you are a long-time Fan of Everett or a relative newcomer, you are going to love this next bit. Because this is your chance to score a very bright, very energetic, very articulate young man to add to your family. Also, I’m confident that he may perhaps possibly be trainable. As-is, no returns.

Also, please don’t read about this on Facebook where I mention the bucket of plaster of Paris that he poured out in small piles throughout two rooms last night. And the fact that he then squeezed Elmer’s glue neatly over each little pile and most of the fixtures and decor in both rooms. No, really, he’s a very sweet little boy. I’m sure he can be trained.

And he’s funny. That’s the important part. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine. Also, in this case, laughter is the best preventative for child abuse.

Takers?

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P.S. This is a humor blog. I feel I should make that really clear lest anyone think I’m actually serious about giving up my funny little man. Frankly, you’d have to be nuts to even begin to think that I could be serious about something like that. But then it’s the nutty people who do crazy things like call social services on people who pretend laughter is the only thing keeping them from abusing their child. So there it is. I’m kidding about both the abuse and the offer. Of course. I love my baby boy who is too big to be called a baby any more and insists that he be referred to as “Big Boy” and yet still thinks it’s a good idea to hide his discarded apple cores under the chest of drawers. Really.