More from Ethan. He's the most entertaining.

We see a woman with multiple facial piercings walking toward us in the mall- not just several, but every conceivable nose, eyebrow and lip piercing.

Sam, quietly to me (obviously not quiet enough): I wonder what else she has pierced.
Ethan: Her ears.

I don't recall the circumstances, here, but we'll just assume it's a typical day.

Me: Bloody hell!
Ethan: That's what Gordon Ramsey says... except it's beeeeeeeeep.

A commercial comes on television for a show called "Deadliest Warrior: Viking versus Samurai".

Ethan: I think it should be "Something versus Ninja". 'Cause ninjas always win.

We are at a hotel breakfast buffet. Ethan is deciding what he wants to eat, but is disappointed to find that they only have strawberry or strawberry/banana yogurt. He is only a fan of vanilla:

Me: I'm sorry, but most people don't eat vanilla yogurt.
Ethan, with genuine confusion: What do they do with it, then?
Random Other Customer: *snort*

He's not for sale, but perhaps I'll rent him out. (Just kidding, CPS.)

She's been begging for dance or gymnastics lessons...

So our conversations constantly alternate between all of the good reasons to get a dog and all of the good reasons for her to go to ballet or hip-hop or tap or gymnastics or...

Emily: ...and I really like dancing!
Ethan: Me, too!
Emily: You could take dancing lessons, too!
Ethan: No, thanks. I think I'm a great dancer.

And this is just the stuff I remember because I dug through my old chats with Cassie. Probably I should get a diary.

Most of the time, in this house, I am not involved in the better conversations. Sometimes, sometimes I am blessed enough to be a witness. Frankly, even when I'm part of the the conversation, I'm still usually just a witness.

Rule number one: Ethan is always a participant.
Rule number two: The conversation is always just two people.
Rule number three: Usually, the second party in the conversation has to be doing something completely unrelated to anything, especially whatever Ethan is doing at the time.
Rule number four: It must be quiet.
This is because these are the conditions in which the true Ethan emerges.

Connor is drawing a monster. Ethan is creating his own... whatever. Probably a diorama. That's how he rolls.
Ethan: Is it a man-eater?
Connor: Yes.
Ethan: Good. I'm a boy.

Sam, short on time and temper: Now you guys get out in this hallway and pick up your clean clothes and fold them and put them away!
Ethan: Good morning!
Sam: Good morning!
Ethan: Guten Tag!
Sam: Bonjour!

Ethan: Oh, Daddy, you're wearing your wedding ring!
Sam: Yep.
Ethan: Do you always wear your wedding ring?
Sam: Sometimes.
Ethan: You sometimes always wear your wedding ring? That doesn't make any sense.

Ethan: Mommy! While I was going to the bathroom, I figured out there are 22 letters in my name!

Emily: Pohtahto is just a stupid, fake way of saying potato.
Ethan: Nuh uh! The guy on Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares says it that way!

Sam: Hoohoo! Hoo hoo hoohoo!
Ethan: Raaawwwwrrrrr!
Sam: No! I'm making bird noises.
Ethan, deadpan: Tweet. Tweet. I tawt I taw a puddy-tat.

Ethan, eying a banana suspiciously: Bananas don't deserve to have stickers on them. ^rip^

Ethan: (Uncle) Jason asked me to get him a soda.
Me: Okay.
Ethan: And I did.
Me: That's good.
Ethan: Connor told me I should shake it.
Me: What'd you do?
Ethan: I didn't shake it.
Me: Good decision.
Ethan: Because it's not good to put soda on the ceiling. Or Jason's face.

Ethan: When is Father's Day?
Sam:Next weekend. But Father's Day isn't as important as Mother's Day.
Ethan: Why?
Sam: Moms are just more important.
Ethan: Well, you're special to me, Daddy!

From upstairs: BAM!
Me: What was that?!
Ethan: Nothing!
Me: Did you break some-
Ethan: NO!
Me: Whatnow?
Ethan: Why would you think I broke something?

Emily: I promise.
Ethan: Right hand to god with your left hand in front. And don't cross your toes. And don't cross your eyes and don't cross your arms and don't cross anything!

Ethan's playing with a batman colorform set. Connor comes over, peels one off, re-affixes it.
Ethan: What are you doing!?!?
Connor: Fixing it. He was upside down.
Ethan: I know! I put him upside down! He hit his head!

And this sampling doesn't even include times when he manages to debate an adult into a puddle or when a conversation is going on around him, him seemingly completely ignoring everything but what he's super-concentrating on, then suddenly pipes up with an opinion that he truly shouldn't have.

You want to know what really went down at any given time? Ask Ethan.

You know when they're little, and they use a phrase because they want whatever that phrase achieves for them, but they don't actually understand...

...the words that they are using, and it isn't until they've started speaking clearly, and yet they're still using that odd pronunciation, that it occurs to you that, no, he really has no idea what he was saying?

Ethan: "Crap, snapple, pop, rice krispies!"

It's kinda like that.

Two Conversations with Ethan

Ethan's terribly shy. He says he doesn't have any friends, but the confusing part of this is that whenever we run into a classmate of his, without fail, that classmate greets him with enthusiasm and calls him "my friend, Ethan". My only conclusion? Little man just doesn't know what constitutes a "friend". He says that, most of the time on the playground, he just walks around alone. I was discussing this with him, encouraging to ask one of the few kids he talks to to play- just say "wanna play?" This led to a conversation about this friend and about how the girls always chase him on the playground, and Ethan doesn't want to play with those girls because they chase him, too.

Me: They chase you because they like you.
He: No, they hate me.
Me: No one hates you! Girls chase you because they like you!
He: What if they growl at you? Like a pug.
Me: ...They're flirting.
He: Oh.

The other night (how's that for a segue?) Emily and Ethan (and I, by extension) were going to a school activity- making ornaments. This was the first night of Hanukkah, which was excellent planning on the PTA's part, giving the poor 97% non-Jewish minority of kids something to do for the evening. For some reason, while I was getting ready to leave (read: turning off my laptop), this was Ethan standing at the door, making it sound like he was threatening to run away from home:

I'm leaving. I'm leaving! I'm leaving now! I'm leaving NOW! Mom, will you drive me? I don't know where to go.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a conversation. It is, however, life with Ethan.

No, seriously. I do not care about your opinion.

So! Recently, we've had a bout of H1N1 up in this hizouse. Or not. Who knows. What I do know was Emily got a big-ass but short-lived fever, a little bit of tired, and a slightly longer lasting cough. No belly pains, no lethargy, no dehydration. Several days later, Ethan followed suit. There and gone. From what I can tell, this either was or was not piggy-flu. So I am going with it was, and the rest of us developed the proper anti-bodies from the exposure. So, yay! All immune! Or not. Because it doesn't matter anyway. There is no vaccine to be had in our area, and even if it were, I'm not entirely sure I'd be willing to take it out of the noses hands of people who are at significantly greater risk than we. Also? I'm not looking for opinions here, so you just go ahead and marinate yours in your delightful noggin.

So what the hell is my point, you ask? Just this:

During Ethan's aforementioned illness, he was belly-down on the floor, playing a board game with Connor.

Sam: He's not getting this whole "sick in bed" thing.
Me: Yeah. We're gonna have to teach him, I guess.
Sam: We could cut off his legs. That'll keep him in bed.
Ethan: No, that'd keep me right here.

Because that's just how this family rolls.

Because god forbid we don't try to put our mother over the edge with our constant fighting.

Ethan: Yeah, well you can't do that, Connor. (Because god forbid something comes to pass without our making a comment.)

Connor: Ethan! MYOB! (Because god forbid we speak nicely.)

Ethan: What does that mean?

Me: Mind your own business.

Ethan: But I wanna to know!

Car: Beeeeeeeeeep! (Because I just face-planted into the horn.)

Ethan Had to Bring Home a Note

April 1, 2009

Dear mom and dad,

I am sorry. I cald out. I was not following
directions. I was being rude.
I got detention. I climbd up the slide
I was throwing toys. I copyd a kid.
I got a card in my pocket. Love Ethan......

But it didn't end there. Side two:

Vegetarianism is Not Genetic

Last night, we were watching the most recent movie incarnation of Charlotte's Web. By the way, if you haven't seen it, it holds fairly true to the original cartoon version (with, of course, a subplot to make it longer)- I can't remember the book well enough to judge that way, though.

We get to the point in the movie where they discover- er, yeah, spoiler here but if you don't know the story you might want to go, i dunno, literate yourself- that the judging for the blue ribbon pig has already happened. Wilbur has not won. The whole family is devastated, but most especially poor little Fern who realizes that Wilbur's fate is now in jeopardy. She is crying into her mother's blouse. Even Mommy, who has been cold and disappointed by her daughter's behavior throughout the whole movie, but now understands that her daughter is simply being an individual, growing into a wonderful, caring person- even Mommy has misty eyes. Tiny little Charlotte has worked through the night to weave "humble" into her web in the hopes of saving Wilbur, but to no avail. And Ethan, my sweet, compassionate boy says...

"Bacon for dinner!"

For Sale: Two Boys, Slightly Beaten

Me, to Ethan: Do you need it or not?

Ethan, sarcasm dripping: Maaaaybe.

Me: And you think that's an okay way to talk to me?

Connor: I'm so proud.