According to my oldest, I have pickles. A few nights ago, while attempting to give big brother a bath, he loudly screamed and proclaimed that I had pickles.
me: "It's time for your bath."
the boy: "Noooooooooooo!"
me: "Come on, we need to give you a bath so that you'll be ready for bed."
the boy: "Nooooooooo, mommy has pickles!"
Dad joins in:"Mommy needs to give you a bath, I'm washing dishes."
the boy: "Nooooooooo, mommy has pickles! I want daddy to do it"
me (while wrestling with him to get in the shower): "Come on, it will be fast."
the boy (flailing, kicking, and screaming): "Nooooooooo, mommy has pickles!"
the boy (while being thrusted into the shower): "No! No! No! Mommy has pickles! Aaaaah, pickles! Pickles! Pickles!"
Even now, I 'm not sure what he meant. He has called pimples pickles in the past, but as far as I could tell I wasn't breaking out or anything. Could he have been so overtired he was seeing spots? Mommy had turned into a freakish pickle monster right before his eyes waiting to feast on clean little boys. "Mmmmmmm, clean boys are good for pickle growing ya know."
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