Paul-ese

So I had to drive all the way out to Edmond today to get my mortgage company to sign off on the check from my homeowner's insurance for roofing affairs. I figured I'd grab McDonalds and just hang out at my dad's until we had to go get Rachel. Less time in the car, you see.


Paul scarfed down 4 nuggets and some fries, which is actually enough food to feed my boys for about 3 days. I didn't question it, though, because, like I said, he's good to go for about 3 days now. The beauty of toddlerhood and then super picky Kindergarteners is that you feed them once and then you don't have to worry about it again for a while.


So here I am (real-time) sitting at my dad's computer, checking emails, when Paul comes racing in.


"Momma, Momma, Momma."

"Yes, Paul? What do you need?"

Alien jabber. Then, "Mouf, Momma." And he pats his mouth.

"Mouth?"

"Yes. Mouf." And he grabs my arm and starts tugging.

"Paul, what do you want?"

Alien jabber. Then "Spii, mouf, spii."


Hmm. Decipher time. Something with his mouth. "Spii?" Spill? Oh, crap, his milk in their living room and their new carpet.


"Okay, show Momma."


Once I stand up, Paul races through the house. I see the milk sitting upright where I had left it. Hmm. What on earth is he trying to tell me?


He stopped and pointed to the floor, where a nice glob of something is on the floor. Since they don't have a dog or cat, I can only assume the glob came from my son.


Ah, yes. "Spii" - "spit." Out of his mouth.

The kid threw up on their floor. And then came to get me to clean it up. And actually used his verbal skills as well as hand motions to tell me about it.


Good Paul.