So, Michelle picks Michael up after school. Michael is clearly mad.

Michelle - "What's wrong, pumpkin?"
Michael - "I hate Nicholas."
Michelle - "What happened?"
Michael - "He punched me in the hand."
Michelle - "Oh, Michael. You don't hate him. He just did a bad thing. Why do you think he punched you in the hand? Did you do something to make him mad?"

Michael - "I punched him in the heart."
Michelle - "Well, Michael, you can't blame someone for punching you back if you punched him first."
Michael - "I know, but I hate it when they defend themselves."

Ah, my little bully.

The boys were playing the Pokemon card game this afternoon. Andrew, being a good big brother, tried to explain the intricacies of the game to Michael.

Andrew - "Okay, Michael, this [something, something] means you can't hurt this card right now. Okay?"
Michael - "No, I want that card."
Andrew - [voice rising] "No, Michael you can't fight that one right now; he's not in the game. You can't hurt that pokemon."

Michael - [voice louder than Andrew's and to the sound of a card being ripped in half] "Yes, I can."

We don't need no stinkin' rules...

Michael whacked me in the face with a Lego contraption today. Pretty damn hard, actually. When I asked him to say "sorry", he said, "I don't want to say 'sorry'. How about 'give up!'?"

I think I'm ready to surrender.

Michael's mind works in miraculous ways. On the eve of the eve of the eve of Christmas, we were talking about Jesus and how he's the "Son" in the "Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

Michael says, "I get it. The sun is made of cheese. That's why Cheesus is the sun."

Wow. I would never have come up with that.

Andrew, on the other hand, wants me to explain what the Holy Spirit is and how the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are all part of the same God. Back to Catholicism for Dummies.

I had a disturbing preview of Michael as a crotchety old man today. After I woke him up from nap, we was very cross with me. Fearing for my life, I put him down at which point he slowly tottered down the hall away from me, mumbling to himself, "stupid Daddy, dumb, dumb, dumb, stupid, dumb, hate you, dumb, dumb, stupid..."

Scary.

My phone rang late this afternoon. I could tell from the caller ID it was Michelle. I pick it up.

M: "Baking soda on kitchen fires, right?"
T: "Yes"
M: -click-

Hm.

Fortunately, there was only a minor oven fire with no damage. More important, the lamb chops turned out very well so no harm done.

The boys' wishes while breaking the wishbone this year pretty much sums up their personalities:

Andrew (6): "I wish for a million zillion good days."

Michael (3): "I wish for a sword so I can cut people in half like a hot dog."

We had a great Thanksgiving dinner. Loads of yummy food. But of course, that's not what Michael wanted. Pringles and whipped cream. What a combination! At least, he prefers real whipped cream to Cool Whip. There's hope yet.

Andrew (6) describing what he did to Michael (3), "I just stepped on his head. Gently."