do you hear that, world?

First, he said he was painting a picture of Mama. Here's one eye, and two eyes, and hair and some legs.

I asked again: "What are you painting?" This is a tree. Here are some leaf-es.

I'm painting like an artist, he said. "When you're painting, you are an artist," I told him. Do you hear that, world? I'm AM an artist, he replied. He doesn't quite grasp contractions yet.

I couldn't make that shit up.

When he was finished, he explained that he'd painted a picture of Mama and Zelda, when Zelda was in Mama's belly. It sure was purple in there, he told me.

conversations with a 21 month old

While reading Mysterious Thelonious: 

Me (reading): "This is a story about the lovely music of Mister Monk"

George: JAZZ!

*     *     *

While watching a National Geographic documentary on bears, which showed brown bears eating salmon:

George (pretending to be on the phone): Mama...no, Papa bear! Eating sharks! Yeah? Yeah! Bye bye.

*     *     *

Me: Uh oh, you dropped your water!

George: (gingerly picking up his water bottle) Uh oh! ...kay? Yeah. Good. Thank you! (copious kisses for the injured water bottle)

*     *     *

George: (shoving a graham cracker into the cat's face) "Happy birthday!...Hi, happy birthday!" (shoves the cracker a little more forcefully into the cat's face, now yelling) "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

*     *     *

While reading a book wherein Eeyore loses his tail:

Me: "Uh oh, did the donkey lose his tail?"

George: (trying futilely to pick the [picture of the] tail up) "Help!" (pointing at the tail) "SEE?!"

Me: "Um...he'll find it eventually!"

George: (crying) "Hee haw sad! Help! Help!"