Gabeisms and Typical Zion

A couple nights ago we're hanging out while Gabe gets ready for bed. This is how the conversation goes:

Him: When Daddy comes home can he stay for a pattern?

Me: What do you mean, a "pattern"?

Him: You know. Work. Home. Work. Home.

He means instead of just work, work, work and never coming home. Can you break my heart a little more my Baby? Yes, Gabe, God willing, Daddy will stay for a pattern.

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A couple of days prior to that Gabe is eating a peanut butter cup that he and Jamie made. As he finishes up with hands and face completely covered with chocolate he says to me "Sometimes I'm sad when special treats are all gone." I couldn't agree with you more!

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Sunday night, all up-to-here in taking care of sick kids and being stuck at home and not being able to get out, I called Applebee's and ordered Carside To Go. Threw the kids in the car, didn't even bother putting shoes on Zion and went and picked up my Orange Glazed Salmon with wild rice and a Caesar salad. Gabe and Zion shared chicken stripes and fries. Safe back at home Zion insists on some of my Caesar salad dressing. She is The Condiment Queen you know.

Somewhere deep in that little mind of hers she gets the idea that salad dressing is body paint. Or maybe she thinks it's the cure for the common cold and in her desperation to shake the bug she has her Monet moment. Regardless, with a fry as a brush she covers herself and her cup, with some splatters to the table and chair, with a perfect layer of dressing. I don't think this is why many mommies say they could just "eat up" their chubby babies.