Greg has been a religous Santa visitor this year. Everytime we are at a mall (which is more often than I'd like to admit) he makes a point of visiting Santa to "tell him one more thing I want." He doesn't actually talk to Santa, he sits on his lap and whispers to me so I can relay the message for him. The other day he very thoughtfully told me "Mom, I think when I grow up I want to be Santa's helper instead of a Nascar driver." Since then he has contantly been thinking of new issues and working them out in his head. We'll be in the car and he'll say "Mom are you going to visit me when I'm at the North Pole?" "How am I going to get there?" He's figured out what we're going to eat when we visit each other, what I'm going to wear so I'm not too cold, where we'll sleep and how much I'll miss him. It's really quite sweet how much he believes its all going to work for him.
Another quick story from the life of Greg. He discovered a while ago that if he sticks his butt forward just right when he pees, he can go without touching his penis, which in his mind means he doesn't have to wash his hands (if he doesn't get caught.) His technique is usually pretty successful, we haven't had too many bad misses. Yesterday while he's in the bathroom I hear "Auugh penis!" I ran in and he throws his hands in the air out of frustration like it was totally out of his control, "mom my penis missed!" I've been trying to explain to him the necessity of aiming, but what do mom's know. Funnily enough later in the day I hear him yelling at his penis again like an out of control child. I just don't know what to do with little boys.