Brodyisms

Recently, while Brody and I were cuddling, he stuck his pinkie up his nostril, and started breathing through his nose fast. He didn't say anything or ask for my input.

But he made himself laugh so hard I wondered if he stopped breathing.

This is a sure sign of genius, n'est ce pas?

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Brody has a running commentary about things he likes. For example, when looking at the fish tank, he'll say "I like fish." Except it actually sounds like, "I yike it da fish."

"I yike it da ochadeese" means "I like Christmas trees."

Since his latest surgery, he has a scar that's about 3 inches wide just under his bellybutton. We only see it when we change his diaper.

B: Dat, mommy? (What's that, mommy) (pointing to scar)

Me: That's your scar.

B: (considering scar for a second). Scawwwwwrrrrrrr. . .

Me: Very good. You said that nicely.

B: You say it, mommy.

Me: Scar.

B: Yeah. (still staring at scar) I yike it da scawwwwwrrrrrr. . . .

Me: Mommy like it da scar too.

B: (smiling) Nother one! Nother one! (happily rushing to roll up his sleeves and show me his scars on his left arm and wrist)

Me: Oooh, those are cool, Brody. I like Brody's scars.

B: (smiling) Nother one! (rolling up the right sleeve)

I kissed each one.