Two comments from my personal peanut gallery that had me in stitches today as we perused Eastern Market in historic Capitol Hill.
(At a coffee shop. Sign on the door reads "Restrooms for customers only." I stood in line to buy coffee so that my kids could pee--oh the sacrifice!)
Sam: (pointing to a giant jar on the counter in front of the register) What are those?
Me: (distracted) Those are... those are...
Sydney: I want a cookie! I want a muffin. Or a brownie? Can I please have one?
Sam: Mommy! What are those?
Me: Those are... dog biscuits.
Sam: Oh. (beat) Are they for dogs or for people?
Young man standing in front of me in line (who is clearly too young to have children): [snicker, giggle, snicker]
Later...
(Walking back to the car. Sam is tired so his father is carrying him. They are a few steps ahead of me. They are both in short-sleeved navy blue polo shirts and khaki bottoms--Sam in pants and his dad in shorts.)
Me: Hey! You and Daddy match!
Sam: (looking backward at me over his father's shoulder, he thinks for a minute) Well, our heads match, and our shirts match. But our bottoms are different.
Neither comment reads as funny as it struck me at the time, but they were both hysterical. Three-year-old are completely without guile and completely literal, in a refreshing kind of way.
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