It must make sense to him

Yesterday we watched as Michael pulled the bottle of laundry detergent into the middle of the livingroom and then proceeded to take a book, lean it up against the bottle, say some stern words to it, and then put the book back in the pile. He repeated this ritual at least five times.

When asked to identify a heart, he responded, "Happy."

When he wants a box of raisins, he asks for French Fries.

He's become adamant about John and I playing along with him - he'll arrange some pillows on the floor and one of our throws and demand that John or I "go bed" with him and in true toddler fashion seems to be happy to repeat this ad infitum.

Since he's been listening to Assassination Vacation for a few months now, he knows the words of the play written by James Garfield's assassin, Charles Giteau (as performed by Brad Bird). There's nothing quite like the site of a toddler standing up in his crib yelling, "DOOMED!"

I have such a cool kid (who is, as I write this, playing the "go bed" game with his father downstairs).