Henry's not the only one quipping noteworthy lines around here.
(Totally unrelated: this picture makes my heart race. I swear he's getting more handsome with age.)
His father has uttered some gems recently, too.
I slipped into a nasty (?) habit of throwing my used floss in the toilet instead of the garbage can. I think it bugs Nate almost as much, perhaps even more, than the fact that I
often always neglect to put the new roll of toilet paper on the wall fixture when one runs out. Nate cannot understand it: "You're just sittin' there with nothing to do, nowhere to go...why can't you just take ten seconds and put the new one on the roll?" he wonders. Anyhow, I am still uncertain of the plumbing consequences of the floss-disposal habit, but Nate seems certain that they're adverse and has requested that I not discard my floss in the toilet any longer. I'm trying to change. But last night I accidentally (force of habit) dropped my floss in the toilet. Oops! And when Nate discovered it, the following exchange made its ways into the annals of our family history:
N: Em, your floss is in the toilet again. Come fish it out.
Me: No. I'm not fishing it out. Just flush it; one more little thread of floss is not going to stop up our plumbing.
He fishes it out with a Q-tip. I hear his thoughts about me. They are not kind.
N: Em, I just wish you wouldn't put obscure things in ... locations.
We laughed. But really, with that sage admonition who wouldn't feel compelled to refrain from putting their "things" in "locations?"
And last night while talking about the future of my hair, he said:
N: Maybe you should get it smartly bobbed?
N: You know what that's from?
N: Thoroughly Modern Millie. So and so takes so and so to get her hair smartly bobbed so she can be modern. (Pausing to think...) Oh...what's her name? Mimi? ... Minnie?
Wasn't it Millie? I think to myself. I stay quiet, too snarky to put forth my suggestion.
(5 minutes later from the other side of the bed) "MILLIE! Her name was Millie."
Um. Needless to say, we laughed. A lot.
It's not all bookish brilliance and quick wit, though. He can be sweet, too. (Really.) The other night he said:
"You know, for me, beauty is just whatever you are. All these preferences you ask me about, short hair or long, tan or fair, curvy or slim, bangs swooped across your forehead or pulled back...I just prefer you."
And in that moment I wanted to try really hard to put the toilet paper back on the roll and throw my floss in the garbage.
I love him.