Conversations from last night (in bed):
Jack: Mommy, I'm sick.
Me: What's wrong?
Jack: My leg hurts. Right here.
Me: Want me to kiss it or rub it?
Jack: Yes. Rub it. Now this leg (pointing to other leg).
Me: Is that better? Are you ok now?
Jack: No. My arm hurts too. Rub this one. And this one.
Me: Feeling better now? What do you need?
Jack: I'm better. I'm not sick anymore.

Minutes later...

Jack: Mommy, I'm sick.
Me: Sweetie, are you ok? What's wrong?
Jack: My head hurts right here (pointing to forehead).
Me: Should I kiss it?
Jack: Yeah. (I kiss) I'm not sick anymore.

I love it.

Conversations from this morning:
Jack: Mommy, I saw two turtles. And two bucks.
Me: You did? Where?
Jack: I did! I saw 'em. Two bucks. I shot 'em in their beds. (Gasp)
Me: No, we don't do that, their mommies will be sad.
Jack: No, I did it.

With that, he crawled under the covers and went back to sleep on my belly.

Ack! My child is a cold blooded animal killer. This is why I hate hunting - I've got a two-year old kid talking about shooting things. It's waaaaaay too early in life for this. I know he hasn't exactly grasped the concept of death and shooting things is fun for a little boy, but this is too much. I am banning all hunting talk until he is much older. On the other hand, he's actually the sweetest. I know he doesn't realize what he's saying, he's simply talking about animals because he loves them (except spiders and the thought of possible dinosaurs at night). His imagination runs wild with stories to regale us with. He's a baseball player, he had coffee with an umpire, he went to baseball and football practice, there are deer everywhere, he refereed a game, and on and on. It's truly awesome to listen to him. And you have to listen, because he never stops to let you get a word in.

And the littlest G.....is growing! And moving like crazy. Just yesterday my belly completely changed shape in the blink of an eye. Last night while hubby snored and I was still on a high from Gilles on DWTS, I sat and felt baby moving for a good hour. Time is flying...can it really be week 21 already? I feel huge. Like a pot-bellied pig. I'm still wearing heels and I'm still running and teaching class, but I feel repulsive. In a few weeks when it's 100 degrees out and my belly is really gargantuan, I will be cursing the sun and praying for my own personal deep freeze to nap in. I can't wait.