At what point do I decide we watch WAY too much Toy Story?
- The Kraken alerted me to a change in nicknames, “Momma, I no call Rosie, Rosie B. anymore. Call Rosie, Stinky Pete.” And he does. I really hope that one doesn’t stick. My poor little girl.
- Toys are separated daily into a ‘donate’ pile and an ‘attic’ pile with a large percentage of Rosie’s toys being sent to Sunnyside.
- When very excited but can’t quite find quite the right words, my son yells, “To infinity, and beyond.”
- When I ask what movie we should watch, the response is in terms of Toy Story villains: Sid, Stinky Pete or Lotso Huggin’ Bear.
- My son can quote a great many lines, including some uttered by Spanish Buzz.
- If I call my son’s name while he is wearing a hat he asks, “Do you see the hat? I am Mrs. Nesbit.” Oh, sorry.
- He will randomly begin calling me, Wheezy and his daddy, Ken. I’m not sure who should be more worried: me because he thinks I resemble a chubby penguin with a smoker’s cough or my husband because Ken . . . well, need I say more?
- I always find a Toy Story 3 boxed figurine set in the bottom of our shopping cart in the checkout line at Target. Once removed the Kraken concedes, “Wait for it to go on sale? Good idea momma.”
Looks like we are having a Toy Story themed, 3rd birthday party in a couple months. I wonder how difficult it would be to make a rocket ship cake. Maybe I should start working on that with my nonexistent cake decorating tools. It can’t be that hard (says the woman with nary an artistic bone in her body). Maybe I should have a back-up plan on the rocket ship cake.
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