This morning, during our playdate, way too early for his nap, Sammy got up and declared, "Bye bye Nora. Naptime. Mama, baba. Go nap. Bye bye Nora."

Sure enough, a bottle and fifteen minutes later, he was out cold. Not the most polite way of ending a playdate (especially one with a little girl he asks for constantly), but this whole being able to tell me what he wants? Rocks.

Then, later, in the car:

Sammy: Too dark. Turn on light.
Mama: What do you say?
Sammy: Please?
Mama: Good. (turns on the light) Now what do you say?
Sammy:....
Mama: You say thank you. And what does mama say after you say, "Thank you"?
Sammy: (nice and loudly, with appropriate cheer) YAY!

I was going for "You're welcome" but in all fairness, I do tend to cheer when he gets his manners down right. I'm particularly fond of his "thank you welcome" lately - throw in a "please" and he's got all his bases covered!

A little while later:

Mama: What do you want to have for dinner?
Sammy: French fries!

And then he burst into gut-busting giggles. Not sure what was so funny, but I'm glad he had a good time of it. Heh. It was almost enough to forgive him for informing me, over and over (like 40 times over), while I drove us down rather treacherous snow-covered roads: "I go to the mall, I ride the train. Go to the mall? I want ride train! I go to the mall. Mall, mall, mall, mall. Train! Mama? I go to the mall. Mama! Train!"

Two days ago, I bitched to Jay about some car commercial where the parents are all blissfully gleeful that they didn't hear a peep out of their kids for six hours because they were glued to the DVD players installed in the backseat. "What kind of parenting is THAT?" I judged.

Mall, mall, mall, mama, mall, I go to the mall! Man, I so would have popped Blues Clues in five minutes into the trip. Heh.