Gleefully Tumbling into the Cute Abyss

It may well be that any reticence I have had about blogging recently stems from the fact that I'd prefer that this joint doesn't become a 21st Century version of "Kids Say the Darndest Things"! HowEVER, kids, do in fact, say the darndest things. To whit:

Grandma Carol comes over the other day with a sweet-ass Lego-type cement mixer. (Let's have an aside here: Really, when does a Lego stop being a "Lego"? I mean, three pieces: a chassis, a tumbler/barrel, and a cab does not, in my book, a Lego make. In my day, Legos meant sticking little tiny pieces together until you went blind and had something that looked nothing like what was on the box. Even your Dad would, after trying to help, put his arm around your shoulder and cry with you quietly. You want to figure out what's wrong with America? It's Republicans and too-easy Legos, that's what!)

So, Max is pretty pumped about this cement mixer. So much so that he repeatedly thanks his grandmother: Push, push. "Thank you, Grandma!" Push, push, turn mixer barrel, turn mixer barrel. "Thank you, Grandma!"

A few nights later, Max is going to bed accompanied by, among others, his cement mixer. Katie is getting him tucked in (yes, he's in is big-boy bed now. More on that later) and he says, "Thank you for the cement mixer, Grandma!"

"Max, I don't think Grandma can hear you. She's in her house."

Max promptly stands up and walks over to the northern-most wall of his room. Which, interestingly enough, is the wall closest to his grandmother's house. He begins to knock softly on the wall. Knock, knock, knock. "Grandma?" Knock, knock, knock. "Thank you for the cement mixer, Grandma!" Knock, knock, knock. "Grandma, are you in there?"

Before you get the idea that the talking Max is all fun and games, today, he also ran off with my lawn and leaf bags while simultaneously chastising me for trying to rake up "his" leaf pile. Even that was pretty cute, though.