Mommy say, monkey do

Both of my boys are some TALKERS. They take after their father.

But perhaps unfortunately, some of what they imitate comes out of my mouth. Some of my favorites:

Isaac, sitting alone before Dada's unholy large Mac Cinema Display, finds himself occasionally unable to color the teeniest of tiny lines on an online Lightning McQueen coloring game. After a few futile clicks, he will scream at the mouse: "Come ON, stinky computer!"

Outside, at the car. It's time to go. I say, "Isaac, come over here NOW so I can put you in your seat." With a theatrical exasperated huff and an eye roll, he replies, "Whatever."

Jacob's favorite thing to imitate is the delight I take in shouting across the house unnecessarily. Last night I checked on a lasagna as it set and cooled. "I think it's ready now," I said quietly to Jacob as he sat perched on my hip. Taking his cue, he then screamed "DINNER READY!" so the whole house could know.

At the breakfast table, the three of us were eating while Daddy enjoyed some well-deserved extra sleep in the basement. Jacob noticed that someone vital was missing. "Where Daddy-uh?" he said. I told him. "He's downstairs sleeping." No way, thought the Jake. "DADDY-UH!" he yelled. " 'MERE!"