“William, eggs don’t understand whining.”
William’s understanding of traffic lights:
Dad: “William, what does a red light mean?”
D: “And what does a green light mean?”
Actual conundrum: how am I supposed to teach William the concept of “you” and “me”? Understanding one seems to require understanding the other…
William has a textured book to teach how things feel. On the picture of a doll, the textured section feels like William’s stuffed raccoon. According to William, that doll is, in fact, a raccoon. My son is a 16th-century scientist.
William possesses the eery ability to identify Jeeps on sight from several blocks away. And not just Wranglers (the stereotypical Jeep); he calls out generic Jeep SUVs. So far he’s only been tricked by Hummers, which just gives me another reason to not like Hummers.
I asked William to tell our dog, Hiccup, that he was a good boy. William told me I was a good boy. I promise I wasn’t fishing for compliments.
William spent most of our morning walk smelling my hair. When asked what my hair smelled like, he said “hair!” I guess that’s good?