Jack Says...

IF I were more organized

and

IF I tagged my blog entries,

I would have a tag titled 'Jack says'.


Rest assured, it is not that Jack is my favorite.


They (my boys) all are individually, perfectly my favorites.


It's just that Jack is the only little one left. Jonah is so far from that little cute stage. In fact, he is the teenage stage, which is a post in it's own right. Gable is juuuust out of the childhood stage, and although Jack will leave childhood far earlier than either of his siblings, for now, he is still in it. He still says cute, misunderstood phrases.


It is from these phrases that my blog tag would find a home.

Jack says...

That he would not call a diary a diary. He would call it a journal.

Because?

Because having a diary means you are telling everyone that you have diarrhea, and that would be embarrasing.

Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that?

This is also the child who is now has weird doggy-sexual images running through his head. Not that he knows they are sexual in nature. Apparently while I was gone last night, Jack came downstairs to daddy, rubbing his eyes. Jon asked him what was wrong.

Jack (coming around corner, sighing and oh, so tired): Dad, Hazel keeps attacking me. Every time I'm almost asleep, she starts jumping on me.

It was at this moment that Jack came into full view, and there, attached to Jack's leg, being drug along, was a little dog. A female dog. In heat. Attacking his leg.

sigh.

Poor Jackie boy.

We also have another, yes, another, cat staying with us. Jon's parents left their cat with us for two weeks. He is staying in Jonah's room and chooses to meow all night long. Lonely little guy. He misses his house and his family.

In the past week, he has chewed through Jonah's new headphone cords as well as the cable that connects the camera to the computer.

My house is starting to feel like a zoo.

I've lost all control.

Wonder what Jack would say about that...