Rylanisms for the Quarter

What do you want for Christmas buddy? "Ummmm...definitely a donkey, magic buttons and a stingray. And maybe a hippopotamus." All excellent and very tangible.

In the car today I hear whispering in the backseat. "Dear God, please blow magic dust on Rapunzle so she will be real at my house when we get home. Mommy doesn't have magic power. Thank you (blows a kiss) and Amen!"

We're at Kohls yesterday and I find Rylan in the bra section, staring at the DD's. He says, "Mom, these are SO big!" Yes son. God blesses us all in different ways.

I have what I've always referred to as my "Cindy Crawford mole" above my lip. Children have always been freaked out by it, two of them referring to it as a spider. That was a slight hit to my supermodel ego. This week, my precious daughter decides to look at me closely, says "Uh oh Mommy! Poopie!" And she touches my mole. And laughs. Yes darling. That's hilarious. Mom has permanent poop on her face.

I explain to Rylan that we're going to Sea World (last month) and told him he'd see all different things found in the ocean.  He says, in the most excised, wide eyed expression possible, "You mean we're gonna see BUYOS Mom?"  Never mind the massive killer whales.

We cut our pancakes into ginger breads one Saturday. Rylan says, "Guys, you better eat these things FAST. You know gingerbread men. They like to run."

"The conclusion of Rylan's prayers last night..."And all God's parent's said....GUYS, you're sposted to say AMEN! Pay attention please."

Rylan was frustrated that he couldn't force his brain to dream about Rapunzel, so I told him he could daydream about her. With his eyes closed, he says, "Mom! Don't interrupt me. I'm daydreaming about Rapunzel in my bed." Ok then. Perhaps we should no longer encourage daydreaming.

I'm volunteering in Rylan's class for the first time. As he's leaving with Tim this morning he says, with a very serious face, "Mom, you're gonna have to look for me at my class. I'll probably be in a meeting with Mrs. Sanderson. On the cozy rug."

I hosted a Blue Jeans Bar party and had music on. Rylan came home and said, "Mom let's put MY songs on." I told him no. He says, "Listen, this is just how it is. Either we play my songs or I'm goin to bed." Mmmm...tough one bud.

Rylan asked me the same question roughly 12 times as I said, "I'm talking, so please be patient." He replies with, "Mom, what do you think you're King of the Heavens or something?"