The Pickle: “I want to catch Santa. And tell him I’ve been good this year. And give him kisses so he’ll give me PRESENTS! But not lick him, just give him smooches.”
The Mother of the Gremlin recently dared to venture into the dreaded Lair of the Children. Upon breaching the domain, the Gremlin lept to protect his territory, while the Pickle scrambled for cover to hide himself.
And by ‘scrambled for cover to hide himself’ I mean: stood still and clapped his hands over his eyes. The MOTG gave up trying to pick her way through the minefield of Legos strategically placed at just the right angle so as to inflict the maximum amount of pain possible, and asked the Gremlin what he wanted to eat. The Pickle stood as still as possible, hands covering his eyes.
As the MOTG departed, she heard the Pickle peep out from behind his arms, “whew! I guess she didn’t see me!”
A few gems from the Pickle
“Momma, I have to go potty.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
“Well, first you need to change me, because it’s too late.”
Later, on lunch:
“Lellow cheese makes me angry. I only like white cheese. So if you give me cheese, it better be WHITE.” (White there was said with a yell and a growl)
“Okay Pickle what do you want for your treat?”
“I want the things that munties and daddies like!”
“You want what? Something that daddies and monkeys like?”
“Yeah! That thing that makes monkeys and daddies buddies!”
“I don’t know what those are.”
“You know, Momma! You know! Munty buddies!”
“Are you talking about ‘muddy buddies’?
“Of course Momma! And I want dem now.”
“Come on! Just come out, I am sitting here waiting for you! If you don’t come out of there, I will put you in time out! Come on, I have been here FOREVER! Just-! Ah, good job!”
I poked my head into his room as I didn’t think he had any friends over, but couldn’t see him. I was still standing there confused when he walked out of the bathroom
“Daddy! I poo’d!”
“So, Gremlin, am I cool?”
“Oh, momma, oh, no. Not at all.”
“What?! Why do you say that?”
“Oh, I can just tell from how you act.”
“Um, well, momma do you think you’re cool? Cause that’s all that matters.”
“Why am I not cool?”
“Momma, do you think you’re cool?”
“There, momma, that’s all that matters.”
So I may have been playing a video game when the Pickle walked in and looked at the TV.
“Daddy! Do NOT shoot them! Talk to them! So try to talk to them! Nicely!